Savior
by The Crimson Sheath
Summary: What happens when a treaty is signed in order to end the war? What happens when enemies are forced together, under pain of death? Who's lives are changed in the process? What happens when Hermione makes the ultimate choice?
1. Prologue

The corridor was like ice as she moved. It widened out into a circular room at the end. It was filled with followers, their black robes flowing about them like wind. Her own robe billowed around her as she walked towards the crowd. In the center of the room before her stood a single man. A single shaft of light illuminated the room, the man's silver hair glowing bright as the sun. She felt her throat close at the sight of him.

Pressing forward, she glided between the stoic, faceless bodies of the people before her. They let her slip by, unnoticed, as she weaved towards the dais. Before the man there stood erected a throne of black glass, the smooth panes of it reflecting it's shiny exterior around the room. There sat the one man for whom she held the greatest hate. His red eyes bore into the man before him, burning their way into his soul. She froze just behind the man, her robes stilling around her as she stopped.

Although no one else could see it, the man before her shook with obvious effort to stand. His shoulders shuddered once before he was forced to his knees. It was then that she saw the wand in the hand of the man on the throne. It was time for her to act. She removed her mask and moved forward, dropping it to the ground as she moved. When it hit the floor, the sound it made was the sound of metal hitting marble, ringing out through the room as she made her way towards the throne. At the sight of her face, the people drew their wands, hisses emitting from all around her. Unclasping her robe and drawing her hood back, she dropped the fabric to the ground, bearing to the world a dress as black as night that clung to her body as if were formed specifically for her and no one else.

She held her head high as she moved ever closer to the throne. The man it bore gazed at her with such fury she thought she would burst into flames right then and there. However, as she neared him, he did nothing. When she reached him, he lips did not tremble, her fingers did not clench. Her very eyes defied him as she gazed into his own, bloody pits of despair. And then, she did the unexpected. She knelt.

"My Lord." As his shocked expression was masked, she bowed her head and waited. She had made her move, and now all there was left to do was wait for him to accept. He spoke.

"How dare you? How dare you come into my domain and humiliate me this way!?" She had expected this. "You know we cannot touch you! You know the treaty forbids it! So I ask again, how dare you!" She blinked once. When she opened her eyes again, she raised her head and looked him in the eye.

"I am part of the treaty. You should know this. . .unless you have yet to sign it. In that case, I might as well leave." She began to stand, but a boot on her hand froze her in place.

"Part of the treaty you say?" His voice was cold.

She flinched as his boot pressed down on her hand. "Yes. Part of the treaty. Why else would I be here?" Her voice was equally cold.

"Ah, well, signing that treaty should be very prudent then shouldn't it?" He turned to his left. "Bring me the treaty." The man beside him aparated out of the room. The boot lifted from her hand. "As for you, I say it is high time you were marked. Hold her." Two men stepped forward and took hold of her arms, yanking her up as they did.

"I'm not going to run away!" She shook free of them. "I am here to honor the treaty that is signed by both sides! I will stand on my own, without your help!" Her eyes were fierce as the men backed away from her. The man on the throne chuckled as he stood.

"It is a fairly painful process. Their purpose of holding you was merely so you wouldn't faint from exhaustion. But, to each their own. I am a merciful Lord, and I was only thinking of your welfare, of course. You may refuse their help, but you will eventually take it." Raising her head high, she thrust her left arm out towards him, bracing herself for the inevitable pain.

He chuckled again. "Oh my dear, I couldn't help noticing the extremely low back of the gown you're wearing. Turn." She gritted her teeth as she slowly spun to face the crowd before her. One pair of eyes caught hers. They bled with unshed tears of silver and pain. Her own golden brown eyes were full of fear as she felt the cold tip of a wand press into her back. Pain blistered across her flesh as the spell was cast, marring her skin for all to see. As the sting spread down her spine, she felt a single tear trickle down her cheek. A matching stream flowed from silver eyes at her feet.

The wand lifted from her skin and a last blast of pain splintered over her body. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he spoke. "Turn." She obeyed. Her eyes met his as his handiwork was displayed for all to see. A single gasp echoed through the room. Splaying the length of her back, from shoulder-line to hip-line, a writhing tattoo swirled in black over her delicate flesh. The one mark she swore she would never allow to touch her skin.

The Dark Mark.

~*~


	2. Remembrance

The lighting in the room was dim, the curtains drawn. The seat beneath her was cold and hard, the desk before her empty and desolate. A voice rang out over the room. "Turn to page 394!"

Hermione's head snapped up at the voice of one of her favorite and yet least favorite teachers. Professor Snape had been grueling her class fort the past month trying to get them ready for N.E.W.T.S. Hermione didn't really see the point because if they were to pass the N.E.W.T.S at all, then they would have to do more hands-on work. Unfortunately, Professor Snape seemed to be of a similar mind as that of a stone. However, brilliant as he was at Potions, the skill did not transfer well to the Dark Arts. Well, 'Defense 0f' that is.

"Excuse me, sir, but... where's Professor Lupin?" Harry, genuinely worried and curious was always the first to ask questions but never really one to get the answers. . .or wait for them for that matter.

"That's not really your concern, is it, Potter? Suffice it to say, your Professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time. Page 394." Snape's cold demeanor was so stoic, so composed, and yet. . .there was something that he was hiding. . .whatever that was.

Hermione's mind wandered as she thought about her Ancient Runes class. There was something about runes that just made Hermione happy. They held so much knowledge just waiting to be unlocked. Ron's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Werewolves?" He was genuinely confused. Hermione felt she had to say something.

"But, sir, we've only just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We're not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks—"

"Quiet!" As usual, Snape's voice was cold and irritated. Hermione huffed.

The rest of class passed without incident. Well, maybe one incident of Malfoy being the customary arse that he always was.

* * *

Later that evening as Hermione was walking back to Gryffindor Tower, her nose buried in a book as always, she rounded a corner and ran straight into the chest of someone very rigid and very tall. This of course knocked her straight to the floor, her book flying off, her bad spilling all over the floor, and worst of all, causing her to squeal rather indelicately as she tumbled to the ground. She landed with a distinct 'plumk' on her bottom, her legs sprawling, her hands automatically going back to stable herself. Before she knew what was really happening, she heard a rather masculine and tenor voice speak. "I'm sorry. Do you need some help?"

Without looking up, she spoke, "Oh, yes, thank you. I'm terribly sorry about that. I wasn't looking where I was going."

"No worries. Please, let me help." The man, whoever he was, offered his hand to her and she gratefully accepted it. However, as she took his hand and began to stand, she tripped and ended up pulling the both of them back down to the ground. Hermione unfortunately squealed again, and the man uttered a rather uncouth oath as he landed atop her. A moment passed and the man lifted his head slightly to speak. "I'm so sorry. I should have better balance. One would think all those quidditch practices would have paid off by now."

Hermione froze. "You play quidditch?" An overwhelming scent took over her senses as she breathed in his cologne. It was somehow familiar.

"Yes. Slytherin Seeker. What about you? Do you play?" Hermione's mind locked. Her body tightened, her muscles tensing at the close proximity. He lifted his head more. "Are you alright?" His steely eyes met her golden orbs. She panicked.

Shoving him off, she grappled to find her wand. It wasn't in her robes. Then she remembered it was in her bag. He stood between the bag and her. Suddenly she realized she was more terrified now than she had ever been. She looked up from her kneeling position on the floor. "What do you want Malfoy?" Her voice was just as unyielding as his eyes.

When she saw his face, there was no mask in place, no façade to look beneath. It was just Draco Malfoy. However, as soon as he realized who he was helping, the mask came back, his calm demeanor shattering in seconds. "Granger. What are you doing wandering the corridors at night? And without your wand? I would have thought you knew better than that. Pity." He began to saunter around her, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Why would I need my wand now, Malfoy? It's not like you're going to do anything. Or that you even capable of doing anything." The last part was muttered just under her breath, but he heard it. He froze mid-step. She stood to walk over to her bag and leave, but his rigid body slammed into hers, driving her back towards the wall.

"You think I won't do anything? You think I can't do anything? Think again!" He pressed his body harder against her, crushing her to the wall. She gasped at his strength, her lungs burning as his ribcage pressed against her own. His hands braced against the wall, he leaned his head in farther, forcing her to turn away. "You think you know everything don't you? I bet there are some things you know absolutely nothing about!"

His breath was hot on her face, his rage pouring off him in waves. "And I bet you'd just love to teach me now wouldn't you!" She tried to shove him away, pressing her hands against his shoulders, trying to gain any leverage she could just to get away, but to no avail. "I would rather die than be taught how to do anything by you!" She turned her eyes to his, his passion and hatred shown like beacons aiming straight at the very heart of her being. Her own fury mounted as he pressed forward even farther.

"Then I guess you'll just be left to whither and die for all you're worth. Teaching you isn't even worth a rat's time." He leaned in as far as their proximity would allow, pressing his cheek to hers, his lips to her ear, he whispered, "Filthy Mudblood."

Without so much as another word, he pushed away from her and sauntered down the hall and out of sight. Hermione sunk to the floor, her body shaking with pain and rage. There was nothing she wanted more than to let her fist collide with that snarky face of his. Her hands were trembling as she brought them to her knees, rubbing hard to bring them back to life.

And there she sat, silently, achingly, statuesquely, her tears falling blindly on the deaf ears of a tacit hall.

* * *

The Yule Ball had been going wonderfully. Hermione's hair was actually behaving, and Viktor had been an absolute dream to her the entire evening. The entire event had been such a complete whirl that she was dizzy from all the spinning. Viktor had rushed off to talk with his schoolmates and Hermione was finally left with a moment to herself. She decided it was high time for a bathroom break and stood from her rather uncomfortable position on the armchair to begin the long walk to the loo. Unfortunately, just as she rounded the last corner to said loo, she ran smack dab into the extremely muscled chest of none other than Draco-sodding-Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going!" She had bumped her nose into his chest bone and was now rubbing it fiercely to sooth the growing pain. She glared at him pointedly from behind her hand as he leered at her from his leaning perch on the wall.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Granger, out for an evening stroll down the dark and dank halls of the Hogwarts Castle. How…what's the word… boring." His drawling voice made her skin crawl as he smirked at her disheveled state.

"Well, if it isn't MR. Malfoy, out for an evening stalk down in the dark and dank halls of the Hogwarts Castle. How very…what's the word…common. Sod off Malfoy." She made a move to pass him, but he was quicker. Before she could get around him, he had maneuvered her towards the wall, his hands braced on either side of her head, trapping her. He kept his distance, not even his clothing touching her, as he glared into her eyes.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes and waited patiently for his tantrum to be over. "If you think that insulting me is going me make me run home to my mother and cry, then you better think again! I'm not the same girl I was two years ago! Go ahead! Call me names, insult my blood, make fun of my friends! Nothing you say or do will hurt me as much as it hurt when he—" She stopped. She hadn't told anyone about that. Not even her parents. Now, after all this time, she'd finally lost it and let it come out…to the one person she swore she would never share anything more than hatred with.

She felt the tears growing, the pain in the pit of her stomach returning, as the memories of that single, horrible night washed over her. Unable to contain it anymore, she sank to the floor, Malfoy standing over her, a look of utter bewilderment plastered on his features. The tears fell freely now, drowning her hands and turning her guard to dust. Before she knew what she was doing she was spilling her story, the words flowing from her like water from a faucet.

"I was walking home from a pub in London. I had been out with some friends and we were having a great time," she laughed a hollow laugh. "My mom had called and asked me if I needed a ride just before I'd left, but I told her I'd be fine. It was just after 9, how bad could it be if I walked? Anyway, I was walking down the street, and it was pretty dark, but everything seemed to be fine. Then I heard feet behind me and I got scared. I looked back, but there was no one there. I couldn't just turn around and go back to the pub, I was already half way home, but I was scared!" Her voice was shaking as she spoke, the words coming out broken, as if they were pieces of shattered glass falling on a marble floor. "I felt someone grab me, spin me around, cover my mouth with something. I couldn't move, I could hardly breathe! I was so scared!" She broke down, the tears overwhelming her as she cradled her head in her hands.

She was scared even now of that night, terrified of his cruel, demanding words that wouldn't end. Breathing deeply and rubbing her neck with her hands, she stared up at the ceiling. Her head felt heavy, her mind numbing as the memories faded, her arms moving to rest on her knees, hands crossed, as the tears slowed. She'd forgotten there was someone else in the hall with her as the tears began to dry. Then she felt a hand in hers, their fingers intertwining palm to palm. She stared at the pair of hands, one tear-stained and sad; the other pale and delicate, but definitely masculine. Following the lines of the fingers to the wrist where the black sweater's sleeve began, to the fore-arm to the masculine bicep to the broad shoulder, the elegant neck, the face. . .She screamed.

* * *

She was headed for the Room of Requirement for a D.A. meeting. It was late, and she hated being late. Especially since it was only the second meeting they'd had in the Room. The corridors were dark, the walls damp as she hurried through the deserted halls, searching for the door. It was never where you expected it to be, always moving and changing it's mind about where _you_ thought it should be. It frustrated Hermione to no end.

There was a noise behind her, not a distinct noise, but it was definitely there. She spun on her heel, hair whipping about her as she moved. There was no one there. Her eyes searched the abandoned hall, trying to find any difference that existed. There was none. Turning back, she began walking again, not as briskly or as loudly as before, but definitely walking again. It was silent for a moment, then she heard it again. Now she knew what it was. It was the definite sound of a boot-heel. If she heard correctly, a very expensive boot sold only in Diagon Alley at a very prestigious Wizard's wardrobe shop. One either had to have major galleons or a very wealthy and amazingly gracious friend. There was only one person she knew of at Hogwarts that could possibly afford such expensive boots, and his name started with a D and ended with a Malfoy.

Stopping in her tracks, she waited. There was no sound, not even the scurry of a mouse or spider on the floor. The corridor was completely silent. There was no hurry she could wait. No doubt he was following her to find the location of the Room of Requirement for Professor Umbridge. HA! She'd be damned if she let him, of all people, find out where that room was!

"Malfoy, I know you're there so you might as well just come out and show yourself!" She heard a small intake of breath. It could have been nothing if one hadn't been listening very closely for that exact sound. She chuckled, something completely alien to her. "Malfoy, you are a pathetic excuse of a wizard, and an even more pathetic excuse of a stalker, so you might as well come out and spare yourself the humiliation of stumbling into a room full of wizards and witches who just so happen to hate your guts and getting yourself hexed into the next century." There was the faint sound of a snicker behind her. She grinned devilishly.

"Well Granger, I never thought I'd see the day!" He came around her and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed casually across his chest.

"And what day might that be, Malfoy?" She crossed her own arms and huffed.

"The day that you would call out someone who is obviously armed," he pulled out his wand from his pocket, "and not in a particularily good mood. What other day could I possibly mean?" His smile was fake.

"Oh, I don't know. Could it possibly be the day that I would fall madly in love with you and forget all the years you tormented me and my friends trying to hide the fact that you were also insanely, madly in love with me as well, only hurting me to make your father and your Death Eater friends think you were pure of heart and intentions? Oh, Malfoy, no need to hide anymore! I'll protect you!" She snickered much as he had not moments before. "Please. Like anything to that end will ever happen. Now go away!" She turned on her heel again and walked in the opposite direction. She would explain the evening to Harry in the morning. He could manage one D. A. meeting without her.

However, a hand on her wrist stopped her, freezing her in place as she tried to leave. "Oh, Granger, I would not have said that if I were you." His fury was fuming off him in waves. She spun on him.

"What are you going to do Malfoy? Huh? We're in Hogwarts! There is nothing you can do to me here! I'm safe! You can insult me, belittle me, torment me with as many cruel jokes you have up your sleeve, but as long as I'm in Hogwarts and under the protection of Dumbledore, there is NOTHING you can do that could possibly hurt me in any way! Now, if you please, get your dirty Death Eater hands OFF ME!" Her eyes held such anger and hate that Malfoy flinched. He flinched so much in fact that he let go of her hand, backing away two steps as he did so. For the first time in his life, Hermione Granger scared him.

Hermione's anger subsided at the look of complete horror plastered to Malfoy's face. For a moment she pitied him. She pitied his life, his childhood, his fate, and his idiotic and undying loyalty to a Lord that would never return to him anything more than heartbreak and misery. "Why do you do it?" Her voice cracked…he noticed…"Why do you hate us so much?" She was almost crying now. "What did we ever do to you that made you hate us _so_ much?" A single tear fell down her cheek. Then it all came pouring out. "You put your trust in people who are evil and cruel, you cause some of the truly good people in this world some of the worst pain!" Her hands were clenching at her sides as she screamed at him. "I can't believe that you're as evil inside as you pretend to be! We've put up with your pranks and your spiteful words for years now! All you do is send more and more and more hate at us that it makes me sick! Every time I see you or talk to you, I feel like something vile crawled into my stomach and is slowly eating away at my innards, trying to burrow it's way deeper and deeper into my soul! I never did anything to hurt you! Why are you so cruel?" Her tears were falling in full force now, her voice trembling as she tried to contain the pain of years from spilling forward. "Why…" She held her head in her hands as she finally gave into the tears. There was a long silence as she stood there, sobbing quietly to herself, just wishing for some kind of comfort…from anyone…

"You don't know…you don't know how I…" Hermione looked up to see Malfoy just a foot from her, his arms crossed defensively across his chest. He looked lost for maybe the first time in his life. "You want to know why I was so cruel? You really want to know?" Hermione didn't dare speak, she was too terrified of his silent rage. "Because if I ever dared to have a friend, a real friend who cared about me and cared about the things I cared about, I would be beaten. Not beaten in the muggle sense of the word. I mean beaten with curse after curse thrown at me. My life was not picturesque and perfect. I grew up alone and afraid of everything that I saw." He took a step towards her, his arms falling to his sides as he moved. "You think you've seen cruelty based on some pranks I've pulled? You know nothing of cruelty—"

"And you know nothing of kindness! All you know how to do is hate! You just keep hating and hating everyone around you! You know nothing of love and forgiveness and happiness—"

"I was never given any to begin with! All those Slytherin girls who throw themselves at me just want my money, my status. None of them just want to spend an afternoon talking with me! Did anyone ever consider that all I ever wanted was someone to talk to, to love, to be a friend? No! Everyone wants a piece of me! Everyone wants something from me! I'm sick of it!" He chuckled. "And it's all because of a rant given by the gracious Hermione Granger. Hats off to you, Granger, you've broken me." He turned to saunter away, but she couldn't let it end that way.

"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say. It was as if all the words had left her mouth and migrated to someone else's brain. It was all she could say. "I'm so sorry."

He'd stopped at her words. No one had ever said that to him. He turned to face her. She was still crying, the tears falling silently down her cheeks as she wept for herself, for her friends, and for someone who had been nothing but malicious and vindictive to her since the moment he first saw her. Walking back to her, he felt his hands moving to her shoulders, placing them there softly, as if asking her permission. She looked up into his eyes, her hands traveling up his chest to rest at the base of his neck. He pulled her in, his arms encircling her as she buried her face in his sweater.

They stood there for what felt like a lifetime before Hermione raised her head to look at Draco's face. He looked down at her, his silver eyes now a stormy grey, his lips barely parted, his breath rushing over her cheek. "Can we—"

She was cut off by Malfoy's soft lips pressing gently to hers, silencing any protestation she may have voiced. Before she knew what she was doing, her hands had delved into the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him in closer, deepening the kiss. His hands splayed over her back, his fingers digging into her skin. Fire sparked across her flesh as her supple body pressed against the hard planes of his chest. It felt as if an unquenchable thirst burst through her as their movements became more fervent and excited with every passing moment. Before she knew what was happening, his lips had left hers, his eyes staring down into hers as realization dawned on his features. A horror came over him, his mind putting the pieces together as he backed away. Hermione's own brain had been engulfed with a fear she hadn't felt since the summer before fourth year, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of what had just transpired.

"Don't you ever tell anyone about this!" Malfoy's rage overwhelmed her as his voice rose, his temper flaring. He wiped his hand over his mouth, a look of disgust coming over his face. "How dare you? Don't you ever touch me again! Ever!" His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white from the anger coursing through his veins.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She didn't know how she felt or why she had lost her senses for that brief moment in time, but she felt she had to do something…she just didn't know what. She looked into his eyes and what she found there turned her blood to fire. Anger so powerful overwhelmed her and she found herself unleashing her fury before she could do anything to quell it. "Oh you have nothing to worry about Malfoy. I wouldn't tell anyone about this if my life depended on it. But let's not forget something, I didn't kiss you. You kissed me! The lips doing all the action were yours! Hell, maybe I should tell people about it! Might take you down a notch or two! Bring you down from that high pedestal of yours! Maybe then, all those girls in Slytherin won't want to touch you anymore! Maybe then, you might get that peace and quiet you want so fucking much! I guess you want it so much that you just had to dive in the mud to get it!"

There was a silence then that was so deafening that Hermione felt crushed by it. Neither of them said anything as her words took effect. Malfoy took a deep breath, his chest shuddering heavily. Looking her in the eye, his hatred and rage overflowing, he spoke. "At least you finally accept your place, Mudblood."

Without further word, he turned on his heel and left, the sound of his boots echoing throughout the hall as he turned his back on Hermione, leaving her behind in the gloom of the night.

* * *

Hermione had just come from potions, the smell of golgiar root still hanging around her, and was walking towards the portrait that led to Gryffindor Tower. It was late, as usual, but what was she to do when Snape like keeping his most prestigious student after class for extra points? When she reached the portrait, she calmly and quietly said the password, waited silently as it swung open, stepped through it, took one look at the scene playing before her on the sofa before the fire, turned on her heel and walked straight back out again. Harry and Ginny had been in the process of starting something that Hermione knew Ron was scream about later if he found out. Then again, if he was already asleep, then there was a good chance that he would never find out…and quite possibly the reason why they were doing exactly what they were doing in the commonroom in the middle of the night when anyone could walk in on them…only no one would. Everyone was asleep by now…and now Hermione had nowhere left to go to sleep…

She decided it would be best if she went back to the library, picked out a desk, and slept there. As uncomfortable as that would be, it would be twenty times better than having to embarrass Harry and Ginny by announcing her presence in the room as they disentangled themselves from whatever awkward position they were in. She laughed at the thought of sitting down with Harry in the morning for breakfast, looking at him knowingly, giggling, then looking away and ignoring him for the duration of the meal.

Just as she came around the corner just before the library, she heard something. She froze, waiting to hear it again. Then a rustling came from the alcove directly to her right. Moving slowly, she pulled out her wand, waiting for the inevitable pounce that would come from the alcove. She was cautious up until the point when she was not a hairs breath away from the darkness. Then, as if on cue, a rumpled young 5th year girl stumbled out of the alcove, her clothing barely on as she scurried down the hall, her sobs sounding loudly against the stones. It took Hermione all of two seconds to realize there was only one person in this school that could do that to a girl with just one encounter.

"Come out, Malfoy." She lowered her wand and stepped back further than she had when the young girl had come bursting out of the black. Seeing the girl had slightly prepared Hermione for the sight of Malfoy just after 'alcove sex,' but the vision before her was unlike any she'd ever seen.

Malfoy's hair was disheveled, his eyes still stormy. His white school shirt was buttoned wrong, his belt still unbuckled, the top button left undone. His shirtsleeves were uncuffed, rolled up one time to give her a glimpse of his smooth, pale forearms. Her mind locked.

"Malfoy…" Her voice shook as she spoke, her eyes glued to his left arm. He followed her gaze; his eyes traveling slowly down his own body to find where her eyes rested. When they found the object of her fixation, he grabbed his rolled-up sleeve and pulled it down. It broke her spell and she searched his face for his eyes. They refused to meet hers. She tried again. "Malfoy…"

"What! What do you want from me?" His eyes held such ferocity, such an animalistic emotion, that Hermione stumbled backwards, her hand tightening around her wand. Malfoy's own fists had turned sheet-white as he clenched them harder and harder. It seemed as if he would never relax them.

Hermione couldn't believe this. Here he was, having sex in the middle of the hall, and HE was the one yelling at her. Fine. Two could play that game. "I just wanted to know what exactly you were doing fucking girls in the middle of the night out in the open where anyone could stumble upon you? Are you in the habit of sending girls off crying their brains out, or is that just an added Malfoy bonus?" She knew her words were cold, but so were his. It was time he got a taste of his own medicine.

For a few moments, he stood shell shocked, her words reverberating through his head as he waited for something, anything to happen. When he finally regained his tongue, even he couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth. "Why, you wanna have a go?" As soon as he said it he knew he shouldn't have. It was as if a light clicked on in his head that Hermione Granger was actually quite attractive, a fact that he had not wanted to know before. He noted that her hair had smoothed out of the summer, her hips had filled out, as well as another, higher area. Her lips were a dark pink, her neck like that of a swan's, elegant and smooth. He blinked, the image refusing to leave his eyes. Rubbing his eyes, he realized that not only was he surprised at her raw beauty, he was aroused by it as well. Damn his teenage boy hormones. "Look Granger, how's about this: I go my way, you go your way, I ignore you, you ignore me. How does that sound?" He held his hands out, not wanting a fight, especially not tonight.

Hermione blinked, her mind working to wrap her head around the fact that Draco Malfoy, heir and Prince of Slytherin had just blatantly invited her into the previously occupied alcove for sex. Now that she thought about it, it did have a kind of appeal. On one hand, she could sleep with him and then hold it over his head for the rest of his life, or she could not sleep with him and hold it over his head that he even asked. One choice was practical and a little manipulative, the other was far more impractical, but probably more pleasurable than anything she could think of. While thinking, she let her eyes travel down his body one last time. The hard planes of his chest, his broad shoulders, the narrowing of his hips, his perfectly chiseled thighs, all screaming at her to rip his shirt open and take him right then and there. Unfortunately for the growing ache in her abdomen, her practicality won out. "The next time you use a girl for something other than for a study partner, I'll know, and I won't be nice about it either." She turned on her heal to leave, a plan to sleep in the Room of Requirement forming in her head as she walked, but his voice called her back.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Without warning, Hermione spun on him, her wand flying out of her bag, the tip pointed directly at his nose, fury burning in her eyes. Malfoy flinched, his eyes snapping shut, but didn't move. All he could think about was third year when he'd gotten a fist in his face instead of the Killing Curse. Somehow now he thought he wasn't going to be so lucky. When he opened his eyes, he didn't find a wand-tip in his face, but an extremely furious and radiant Hermione Granger not an inch from his nose. He almost jumped back, the feeling was so strange, but something made him freeze. The intensity of her eyes as they bored into his lit a fire beneath his skin, a shiver running down his spine as he inhaled her scent.

Then he felt something. It was something warm, soft, delicate, and it was moving slowly, no tantalizingly, up his chest. He glanced down and found Hermione's hands gliding up over his shirt, their heat sending sparks over his skin. Looking back into her eyes, he found that they were almost black, the gold flecks around her irises sparkling against the darkness around them. He found himself letting his hand travel over her cheek, fire sparking up along his fingers as they moved over her skin. Realizing what he was doing, his silver eyes turned stormy grey as his hand moved to the nape of her neck, grasping her hair and pulling her head back, glaring hate shining in his eyes. Her own gaze intensified as her hands clenched into fists on his shirt, drawing him close.

His brain was screaming at him to scream at her, to disgrace her in any way possible, but his body had other plans. He clenched his hand by his side, his own personal battle of what to do with it raging in his head. His brain lost as it crept up her thigh to rest at the base of her spine, drawing her flush against him, his skin turning to fire wherever she touched. The hand grasping her hair pulled further downward, forcing her to look him in the eye. Her arms trapped, her body pressed firmly against him, she had nowhere to go. It was not an embrace of love, nor was it a grasp of hate. It was something else entirely. What formed then was a forgiveness that could not be comprehended by any other.

The fire in Hermione's eyes dimmed as his grip loosened. As his hand released her hair, his arm sliding down over her shoulder, she found herself seizing his wrist, holding him in place. The look in his eyes pained her, more than it should have. With distinct intent, she let her eyes travel down his jaw, over his neck, across his shoulder. They came to rest on the pale skin of his forearm, on the black stain of imperfection that marred his flesh.

It seemed to glow with dark hatred, with blinding rage as it writhed, almost harmlessly, against his skin. She let her fingers run over the flesh, drifting them across the magic that rested there; powerful, evil, and yet beautiful. He breathed in as her fingers danced along his skin. Her eyes snapped up to his. Before she could think, she was raising his arm up, her eyes moving down to stare into the hollow eyes of the skull, as she brought the searing flesh to her lips. As the swirling darkness brushed her skin, Malfoy gasped, a searing fire spitting up his spine at her touch. He moved to pull his arm away, but her tightened fingers wouldn't let go. Hermione let her lips slide away, her cheek brushing against his forearm, releasing him as she did so.

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy. So sorry." Her voice was barely a whisper, barely anything at all. And then something happened. There was no conscious thought, no reasoning behind that which occurred next. It was as if some unknown force moved through them as it collided with itself, over and over and over again. Something broke within him, something he didn't think could break, or that it was even there. His eyes turned haunted, hollow, and he cracked in two. And suddenly, he was in her arms, her hand holding him to her across his neck, her arm wrapped around him, clutching to him like a lifeline.

And then, without thought or reserve, his own arms wound around her, his face turning into her neck, taking in her scent. The tears fell from his eyes as if they had never flown before. His sobs wracked through him as if he was fighting just to survive. There they stayed, frozen in time as if nothing could break them. Hermione holding him, letting him let go of everything he'd been forced into through the years, and Draco finally letting himself leave behind all the pain and hurt that life had dealt him through the years.

"I don't….I don't know…how…" His voice was broken into shards, the pieces falling on her ears like rain on a lake. "I can't. I can't…"

The sobs ceased, his hands clutching her to him with a desperation she hadn't thought possible. With one last breath of heat over her flesh, he stepped away, the connection lost between them as time slowly caught up with them. His hands grazed over her shoulders and down her arms as he moved from her, but her fingers caught with his. This time, she wouldn't let him go.

"You don't have to. You don't have to." She moved towards him, her hands flying to his neck, dragging his lips down to hers. She didn't expect him to respond, and when he did, they were suddenly flying through the air, her body pressed firmly against his, as they whirled into the alcove, Hermione's body hitting the stone wall as they grappled for control. Her hands moved over his back, pressing him closer, his own hands traveling up her neck, grasping, choking, controlling. He pressed her against the wall, moving his head to look into her eyes. His thumb ran over her jaw, teasing her flesh as his knee edged between her legs, daring her to speak.

Slowly, he brought his lips closer to hers, taunting her. Her body strained towards his, her breath coming in short, labored gasps. Her eyes left his, traveling down his face, to rest at his lips, pulling her own towards them, a sigh of satisfaction escaping her lips as she drew closer.

As the sound left her mouth, Malfoy froze, his eyes growing dark, as if a giant storm brewed beneath, waiting to be unleashed. He pressed forward, crushing her to the wall, their lips a mere breath apart. He tilted his chin upwards, staring down at her in longing, his eyes fixed on hers. "Beg me." Her eyes snapped up to his, a coldness in them he'd never seen before. He spoke again. "Beg me."

He thought at first that she wouldn't, that he would leave this alcove more unsatisfied than he'd been in months. He thought she would shove him away, scream at him, defy him, hit him, curse him, kill him. And yet, as he watched in utter bewilderment, she turned her head up at him, her eyes dancing and spoke. "Please. Please, Draco. Kiss me, please."

* * *

~*~ Please R&R! Thanks! ~*~


	3. Actions

For a moment he was still, her voice still reverberating through his skull as the weight of her words sunk in. His body relaxed against hers, his eyes searching the depths of hers for any hidden layer. He felt the quirk of a smile play at his lips as the realization of her decision hit him. She wasn't begging him because she feared, she wasn't begging him because she wanted him to let her go. She was begging him because he asked her to, because she wanted to.

His lips danced before hers, waiting, taunting, until she could take no more. And then, as if he himself couldn't control it anymore, he brought his mouth to hers, capturing her senses as he claimed her lips, branding her as his for all time.

She found her hands gripping his shirt, tearing at it with her nails as his lips worked their way down over her jaw, trailing along her neck, whispering along her collarbone, inhaling her scent as he did so. His hands traveled over her shoulders, sliding between her back and the wall to rest just below her waist, splaying there over her as she arched into his embrace, her legs wrapping around his waist in an effort to move further into him. He stumbled backwards, his back hitting the stone behind him, bringing them full force back into the reality they lived in. Their eyes snapped open, both staring with horror and terror of what they were to do next.

Hermione slowly unwound her legs and slid down his body, so she stood pressed against him, her hands resting gently against his chest, her eyes boring up into his, waiting. Their breathing came fast, their chests rising and falling heavily against one another's. As Hermione watched, she saw a decision being made, saw Draco's brain fighting for something as intangible as air. And then, she saw a change. She saw the decision made as he changed from being rash, and free, to being as cold and lifeless as he was on the day she met him.

His arms dropped to his sides, his face moving into an unreadable mask, his eyes freezing over with an iciness she had never seen in him before tonight. It was now that she realized that she couldn't fight with him. She couldn't argue with years and years of culture and Pureblood breeding that was as much a part of him now as it was when he still respected it.

She dropped her hands. His eyes lowered as he squared his jaw, as if preparing for battle. He turned his head away, his eyes searching for something, anything, to focus on other than the woman before him. Hermione moved away, moved to leave, but as she did, something made her freeze. Malfoy's intake of breath made her turn back, made her search for something in him that hadn't been there before. She stepped back into the hollow shell he had become and looked up into his eyes. Without realizing it, she let her hand travel up to his cheek, turning him to face her. "Look at me." Slowly, his eyes found hers. There was such sadness there, such malice for something of which he had no control. Cautiously, she rose up on her toes, her body barely brushing against his, and touched her lips gently to his. He groaned from deep within his chest, the sound guttural and uncontrolled as his lips moved against hers.

She pulled away, the bittersweet taste in her mouth refusing to fade. His lips parted as she moved beyond his reach. Their eyes were locked but the sparkle from before had left. It had been replaced by a sorrow, a gloom that even she could not comprehend. "Close your eyes." Her voice was gentle, soft, and he obeyed without thought.

She felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, felt her throat close as she choked back the sobs she longed to release from their prison. She ran at him, throwing herself at him, her lips crashing to his one last time, relishing in the feel of his arms around her, breathing in his scent, rejoicing in the smooth, silky texture of his hair as it ran through her fingers. And then it was gone. All the senses, all the temptations running through her body fled, and his presence was no longer felt. She opened her eyes, and found herself entirely alone, the alcove all but black in the gloom of the evening.

Wandering back to the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione's thoughts ran rampant. There was no conclusion to be drawn from this experience, no reasoning to be discovered. Not with years of therapy would she ever be able to find the source of the power she had felt in that small enclosure. For a moment, it had seemed that they were the only two people in the world, all time freezing around them, if only for a moment. Suddenly, Hermione was filled with complete and utter assurance that she would carry that feeling with her for the rest of her life. No matter the cost.

* * *

It was morning, and breakfast was atrocious, Hermione had decided. The eggs were cold, the bacon fatty, and the toast was burnt. Harry and Ron took no notice of this, seeing as how they were hyped up about the impending Quidditch match against Slytherin. Hermione couldn't be dreading it more. She didn't know where she stood now. Quite often, she had caught herself glancing at the Slytherin table, searching for the telltale platinum head of hair, her eyes gluing themselves to that vision of gold.

"Hermione? Hermione?" Ron was saying something to her. She should probably turn away from the Slytherins and listen to what he was saying. . .probably, but not likely. "Hermione!" Her head snapped to Ron, her hair flying about her, whipping Harry's face in her hurry.

"What is it Ronald?" Her hands gripped the table, her eyes flashing.

"I wanted to know why you were glaring over at the Slytherins? Has something happened that Harry and I should know about? Was it Malfoy?" Ron's tone was so patronizing and so beyond that of concern that Hermione grew very irritated, very fast.

"No Ronald, nothing has happened, no it wasn't Malfoy, and I can glare at whomever I like without you having to know about it! So if you please, I'm going to go back to Gryffindor and try to wash out the taste of cold eggs and fatty bacon, if you wouldn't mind!" With that, she stood, forcing the bench away from the table, making everyone stand with her. "Excuse me." She stepped over the bench, noted that everyone in the Great Hall was watching, grabbed her bag and stormed down the isle and out the doors, giving them a good slam as she closed them.

Ron turned to Harry as the doors slammed shut, a look of bewilderment broadcast across his features. "What the bloody hell was that all about?"

"I have no idea." Harry turned his head towards the exit of the Great Hall, a cacophony of thoughts crowding his brain as the possibilities abounded.

* * *

The common room was quiet. Everyone had left and gone off to the Quidditch pitch for the match. Hermione was the only one left. She felt bad about not wanting to go to the game, but at the same time, she was filled with a dread she hadn't felt in a long time. She couldn't quite place it, but she felt it all the same. Still, she wrapped her Gryffindor scarf around her, pulled on her boots, and went out to face the music.

Little did she know the amount of music she'd be facing. . . .

* * *

Malfoy had been in a foul mood all morning. His food had been sour, his clothes wrinkled. And now, he had to contend with the fact that he couldn't Hermione bloody Granger out of his mind. Life just didn't seem particularly fair in this instance, especially with Quidditch to think about and not some brilliant, silky-haired, smooth-skinned, doe-eyed. . .no, stupid, bushy-haired, dull-eyed, filthy mudblood. Yes, that's what he thought of her. . .now why exactly did he feel bad about thinking that about her?

"Malfoy! You coming or what?" He glanced up to see Blaise snapping at him to hurry up. He finished tying up his laces, grabbed his broom, and headed out. It was time to teach those Gryffindors a lesson or two.

* * *

The crowds were cheering, the Quaffle was flying, the Bludgers soaring, and still, the Snitch was nowhere to be seen. Even Harry was having trouble finding it. Hermione watched in anticipation as the players flew across the field. And then she saw it. It was floating harmlessly in the air, just beyond the stands. And then she heard someone cry out, "Harry!" Then she realized that it was her who had cried out. And then Harry was zooming towards her; his body crouched low over his broomstick, his face set with determination. She was smiling as he soared closer and closer, the distance between him ad the Snitch growing smaller and smaller with every second.

* * *

He heard someone call out, louder than the others, and turned towards the voice. It was Granger, and she was calling to Potter, and he was moving towards the Snitch. Malfoy turned his broom and sped off, his eyes narrowing on the small golden ball as he grew closer.

Then he heard the sound of a bat hitting a bludger, and it was much closer than it should have been. He turned his head to the left, and found himself staring right at the dark grey of a bludger, barreling straight towards him. He had only the time of one thought, and that thought was full of only Granger and how stupid she was going think he was after she found out he'd let himself get hit with a bludger, of all things. And then everything went black.

* * *

Hermione saw it before it happened. She saw the Slytherin Seeker coming in, saw his flash of platinum hair, and then she saw the bludger. She saw the realization dawn on Malfoy's face, and then she saw him falling. Oh, he was falling so fast. Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione was running, faster than she'd ever run, down the winding stairs of the stadium, through the faculty doors, and out onto the field. She saw him laying there, his body at an awkward angle, and she almost panicked. She drew her wand without question, and found herself kneeling at his side, gingerly turning him over, laying him on his back, checking to make sure he was all right.

"Malfoy? Malfoy, can you hear me?" Nothing was broken, that she could tell, but he needed to get to the hospital wing. Something might have been damaged internally and she had no way of knowing that. Frantically, she looked around her, and saw that no one but her had seen Malfoy fall. No one was coming to help. She was on completely on her own.

She saw his broomstick hovering close by, waiting to be ridden, and a thought dawned. Carefully, she waved her wand over him, making him levitate with no difficulty, and guided him over to his broom. Painstakingly, Hermione mounted the broom, balancing Malfoy in front of her, and gently raised the broom into the air. They flew slowly but surely back to the castle and landed without incident in the courtyard before the Great Hall. It was only moments before they were in the Hospital Wing when she heard something.

"Granger, I do believe I can walk, thank you." She nearly jumped, and when she turned, she found him staring devilishly at her from his hovering position, a playful smirk toying with his features.

"How long have you been awake?" Her hands found their way to her hips, where they rested quite satisfactorily as she looked down at him.

"Since you managed to manhandle my broom in a broom closet about 10 feet back. . ." He grinned openly, knowing that his toying with her had mad her quite cross, and that stopping now would only make matters worse.

She took one last disgruntled look at him before dropping him unceremoniously on the floor where he landed with a rather un-princely 'plop' and an 'umph' on his bottom. Satisfied, Hermione slipped her wand into her pocket and pouted. "You really should learn to be more courteous to the people who help you in life, Malfoy. Without them you'll get no where."

He looked up at her from his ungraceful position on the floor, and moped. "Did you happen to notice the fact that I just fell from a rather high distance after being hit by a bludger just minutes ago? Or were you too busy chastising me to care?" His mood had just sunk to a lower level of sour, and Granger was not helping. He glared at her a moment longer before realizing that he had let his scowl transform into a rather goofy grin. As this dawned on him, he noticed that Granger's bitter demeanor had begun to crack as well, and before they knew what was happening, they were beside themselves with laughter and hysterics. Unfortunately for Malfoy, a pain in his side made him suddenly freeze, gasping in agony. Clutching his side, he fell back to the stones, his head hitting them hard.

"Malfoy?" Such concern. He'd never heard someone speak with such concern before. As he opened his eyes, he saw something he didn't expect to see. Hermione Granger was kneeling over him, her eyes full with such alarm, such panic that all he could do was stare. Then her hands were on his face, clutching him closer. "Malfoy! Are you all right? Malfoy, can you hear me?"

He gasped again, bright spots of light flashing before his eyes, the pain in his lungs growing ever worse. And then there was nothing. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. "I. . .I can't breathe!" He gasped again, the pain exploding as he tried to force air into his lungs, but nothing was getting through. He could feel the panic setting in, the rush of fear overwhelming his senses as he began to fade. Suddenly he was clutching her arms, grasping at her cloak, trying to breathe, trying to live. Then he heard footsteps, rushing boot heels, hurried words, screaming voices. All the while, all he could see as his vision faded to black was an apparition of Hermione Granger never leaving his side. And then he saw no more.

* * *

Hermione sat quietly by the window of the Girl's Dorm. Everyone was whispering about what had happened at Quidditch. All the girls were huddled together on one bed, their voices carrying more venom than Hermione thought possible.

"I heard that she wouldn't leave his side!"

"No, really?"

"Really!"

"Well I heard that they've been seeing each other in secret. That they've been hiding from everyone!"

"That's disgusting! Doesn't she know who he is?"

"Of course I know who he is! That doesn't change the fact that he was hurt today because of a stupid Quidditch match! Regardless to who he is or where he's come from, he is still under the protection of this school and until he isn't, he deserves the same treatment as everyone else! I'm not seeing him in secret, I'm not hiding anything from anyone! I just so happen to be the only person in this entire House that seems to care a damn about other people! Gryffindor my arse!" Hermione stormed out of the dorm and down into the commonroom. Harry and Ron were crouched together by the fire, speaking heatedly about something. Feeling the color rise in her cheeks, she walked straight up to them and began her tirade all over again. "No I'm not seeing him! No, I don't care what people think of me, and NO I'M HIDING ANYTHING! I WISH YOU PEOPLE WOULD JUST LEAVE THINGS WELL ENOUGH ALONE!" With that, she threw up her hands and walked away, shoved the portrait open, and walked out into the dark halls of the castle.

A bewildered Harry and Ron stood shell-shocked for a moment before hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs. They turned to find the entire Girl's Dormitory flooding down the stairs and spilling into the commonroom. When they saw Harry and Ron's faces, they all froze, guilt plastered over their features.

"What the bloody hell did you do to Hermione?" Harry placed his hands on his hips and glared at them all. Ron didn't know what to do, so he just copied Harry's stance and glared. They made quite a pair, standing there like a couple of Peter Pans ready to fight off any Captain Hook that stood in their way.

"We didn't do anything. . .we were just gossiping. . .and I think. . .well I think Parvati offended her."

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did! You were insinuating that she was sleeping around with Malfoy! What girl wouldn't be offended by something like that?"

"You were going along with it!"

This outburst started a cacophony of voices all sounding at once about how Malfoy was this and Malfoy was that, how Hermione was an idiot for NOT wanting him, how Hermione WAS an idiot for dating him. Harry and Ron glanced at each other, at the group of girls, at the other boys in the commonroom, back to each other, and then all quietly and discreetly, crept out the portrait and then ran as fast as they could for the Great Hall.

* * *

The Hospital Wing was dark and cold. No one was there, the only sign of life being the candle lit on the table by the door. He woke to the darkness, no one around him, nothing there to give him any sign that he was in fact alive. He tried to sit up, but a pain in his chest made him freeze, and then he remembered the Quidditch match. His head hit the pillow as he rubbed his eyes. He groaned inwardly at what the Slytherins would say about this later. And then his silence and self-loathing was interrupted.

"Mr. Malfoy! I'm glad to see you're awake. Now, if you wouldn't mind drinking this." Madame Pomfrey thrust a glass of some awful looking potion in his face. He took it wordlessly and gulped it down, the bitter taste making bile rise in his throat. "No, don't spit it out. This is the only thing keeping you from drowning at the moment, so do please drink up."

He'd never swallowed so fast in his life. "Drowning?"

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. When Miss Granger brought you in you had a collapsed lung, it was filling with fluid. We were lucky to have caught it in time. You were very fortunate earlier to have had someone like Miss Granger looking out for you. I'm terrified to think what might have happened had she not gotten to you when she did. I do believe you owe her your very life. Now, I expect you to behave for the next few days. You'll be released tomorrow, but I want to see you in here every evening for your treatment. Is that clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey." Draco nodded solemnly as he thought about what all this meant. He couldn't help but feel that some how, some way he had made a grievous error in the past few days. He sat in silence as Madame Pomfrey bustled back to her office, her skirts ruffling as she went.

The silence now was blissful, the absolute absence of sound a gift for his straining senses. Closing his eyes, he let the silence overwhelm him, his mind overflowing with thoughts of the past hour, the past week, the past year. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything he'd been taught, everything he'd been shown, been told to follow, it all seemed meaningless now. All he had in his head was a vision of Granger hovering over him as if her life depended on it, as if her very existence hung on his own.

* * *

The library was quiet at this time of day. It was late in the afternoon and all the students had already left or had canceled all plans of coming completely. Hermione found she liked this time of day best. The silence helped her to think, helped her to better organize her thoughts coherently.

Wandering through the stacks she found that she suddenly wanted to be somewhere else entirely. Not really concentrating on where she was going, she left the library. She wandered down the halls, around corners, past empty classrooms. She found her way to the Great Hall, where the entire Boys Dormitory from Gryffindor was gathered around a table chattering about something. As she was turning to leave, Harry caught her eye.

"Hermione!" He jumped up and ran to her. "What was going on with you earlier today? We'd thought you'd gone barking mad!" There was genuine concern plastered to his features.

"No, Harry, I haven't gone mad. The girls had just really gotten to me is all. Nothing to worry about." Hermione shook her head and yawned. "I think I'll go to bed. It's really been a rather tiring day. Good night Harry." With that she turned on her heel and walked blearily out of the Great Hall and through the corridors of the castle. With no real intent to, she found herself outside the Hospital Wing.

'Well that's odd, I don't know what I'd want to do here. . .' Her hand hovered over the door handle, her thoughts running rampant. 'Might as well find out.' She opened the door and took a step in. The silence that welcomed her was suffocating. The room was entirely empty, devoid of any sign of life. But then she heard it. It wasn't a loud noise, or even a distinguishable noise. It was just a rustle, and Hermione's eyes scanned the room as her ears tried to hear every sound possible. And then she saw it. In the last bed in the corner there was someone there, and there was only one person that it could be.

"Malfoy?" It was barely a whisper, but she knew she'd made a mistake as soon as the name left her lips. He stirred, his body reacting to what his brain hadn't registered yet. 'Well, no turning back now.' She moved further into the room, letting the door slide silently shut behind her. Walking slowly, she made her way towards his bed, not really knowing what exactly she was doing. When she reached his bed, she sat soundlessly next to him, waiting for him to wake. When he didn't, she had the sudden urge to shake him until he did, but quelled it as pain crossed his features in his slumber. Without thought or reservation, she placed her hand on his own, willing him to wake. She squeezed his wrist and waited, her breathing slowing until the only sound in the room was that of the wind passing through the hallowed halls. What seemed like hours passed, nothing changing, her eyes never leaving his face. Then, as if someone had screamed, he bolted upright, his hand flying to her throat, pulling her against him hard.

Hermione's eyes snapped shut, complete and utter fear overwhelming her senses as she tried to calm herself. His grip on her throat tightened, her breathing becoming more and more difficult with ever passing second. And then suddenly there was no pressure at all. She collapsed back on the bed, her body sagging with an unknown burden as air returned to her lungs. She opened her eyes. What she found before her was the most horrifying image she had ever seen. "Malfoy?" He had shied away from her, his body curling into the back of the bed, his hands turning white as they grasped the bars of the headboard. He shook with some unidentified fear, some untraceable pain.

Hermione moved forward on the bed, placing her body directly behind his own. When she got there, she didn't know exactly what to do, so she waited. She waited for what seemed to be forever, and then, when she least expected it, he stilled. His body froze, and it was then that she knew what to do. Slowly, she let her hand travel over his arm to his own hands. Softly unwinding them from the bars, she pulled him in. She brought him into her embrace and held him as he slowly, ever so slowly, fell into a dreamless sleep. Leaning her head against his own, she let her eyes drift closed, and let blissful slumber take her in.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_ Okay, so I've just updated this chapter, and the ones before it with the line breaker thingies that I have been trying to figure out forever. I hope everyone understands the thought breaks now...sorry about the confusions!_

_-The Crimson Sheath_


	4. Obedience

It was morning. The light shown greedily through the curtains at Grimmauld Place, dancing over her eyes as she slept. He watched her with reverence as her breath fanned over his outstretched arm. She was so beautiful when she slept. Trailing his fingers over her exposed shoulder, he found he wanted to freeze this moment in time. To never leave this room, this bed, with her, would be the greatest pleasure he could imagine. And they had so little pleasures like these left.

There was a soft knock on the door, startling him out of his reverie. He edged himself out from beneath her, careful as she stirred in her dreams. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he opened the door and saw Harry's welcoming face, a grin spreading over his face. "What is it, mate?"

"Is Hermione still asleep?" He could barely contain his glee.

"Yeah, I only just woke up. What's going on?" Now he was curious. Something was up.

"Come downstairs." Harry turned on his heel and headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Blearily he followed. Once in the kitchen, Harry exploded. "You'll never guess what happened last night!"

"What? What happened?" He plunked down into a chair and rubbed his forehead, the aches from the day before catching up with him.

"Last night, I was leading some members of the Order on a raid. We were following up on some intel on a Death Eater safe-house. We were thinking that nothing would really come of it, our source wasn't exactly one of the best, but we thought we'd check it out." He began pacing, his excitement barely contained. "Well, as you can imagine, we arrived at the safe-house, and low and behold, there was Death Eater meeting going on right before our eyes! We couldn't believe our luck! And you'll never guess who we captured! Come on, guess!" Harry was so ecstatic that he began to jump around the room like a rabbit.

"I don't know Harry! I only just woke up! My brain isn't completely on yet. Why don't you just tell me and get it over with." He watched at Harry finally calmed enough to tell him.

"Lucius bloody Malfoy! Can you believe it! I couldn't even believe it! I mean, Lucius Malfoy! Finally we're going to get some information about Voldemort that we never could have even dreamed of having before! Isn't it fabulous!" Harry looked over and found his best friend slouched over the table. "Ron! Wake up you! Wake up!" Shaking his shoulder, he watched Ron's eyes glint as all the engines started firing. "Ron! This is fabulous news! We've finally captured Lucius Malfoy!"

As realization dawned on Ron's features, a wide grin spread over his face. He was up before one could blink. "I have to tell Hermione!"

* * *

The Manor was cold and empty. Even as he stood in the ballroom, looking out over the gardens where the sun shown ever brighter, the entire place just felt cold. He didn't mind. He was cold, so naturally everything around him was cold as well. He just didn't like his home being cold. He crossed his arms and glared out the window, wishing that today didn't have to come.

"Draco?" His mother's voice made him jump. "Draco dear, what are you doing in here? You have to be getting ready. We're leaving soon." Narcissa's voice faded slightly as she walked away.

He should be getting ready. It was nearly noon and he had places to be. Slowly turning from the gardens, he found himself thinking on times when life was simpler. Well, life was never really simple, but it was less complicated. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the first time he'd ever flown on a broom, or his first trip to Hogwarts on the train. His first kiss. His first chocolate frog. Yes, there was a time when life was less complicated, but the burning on his arm only helped him to remember that those times no longer existed. He now lived in a time where children were no longer safe at Hogwarts, a time where people knew never to go out at night for fear of the Death Eaters who patrolled, a time where what one felt no longer mattered. All that mattered now was what you were told, ordered, demanded. All that mattered now was his obedience to his Dark Lord.

* * *

"Ron! Ron, we're going to be late!" Hermione was slipping in her earring just as Ron was stepping out of the bathroom, his tie all jumbled.

"I can't believe I can't remember how to tie a tie! I only did it every morning for six years of my life, why the hell can't I do it now!" He trudged over to Hermione, holding his tie out in front of him, his eyes begging her to do it for him.

"Oh Ron, you're so adorable when you're frustrated!" Hermione quickly did his tie, and when back to fixing her hair. They were having a well-deserved dinner party at the Weasley's to celebrate the capture of Lucius Malfoy. Hermione could hardly wait to see Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. It had been months and she was sorely lacking some girl time.

Ron placed a chaste kiss on her neck before grabbing his jacket and heading downstairs. "Don't forget the flowers for your mother, Ronald!"

"Got 'em! Come on! We're gonna be late!" Hermione smirked into the mirror before her, hands on her hips as she chuckled. Slipping on her shoes, she snatched her coat from the bed and took off down the stairs to meet Ron. Within moments they were standing in the oversized fireplace at Grimmauld Place, floo powder in hand.

"The Burrow!" They were swallowed in green fire.

* * *

"Harry dear! So lovely to see you! Welcome, welcome!" Mrs. Weasley snagged Harry into a powerful hug as he stumbled through the Weasley's front door. "Ron's waiting for you in you're bedroom. He has something to talk to you about. Best hurry up! Oh, and Hermione's with Ginny out in the garden! Arthur! Arthur, where are you! You better not. . ." Harry shook his head as Mrs. Weasley's voice trailed off through the house, making his way up the stairs to Ron's room.

"Ron?" He knocked on the door, waiting for Ron to answer.

"Harry!" Ron burst through the door, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him inside. Once in the room, he through Harry onto the bed, making sure that he was sitting and paying full attention. He then shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Bringing it between them, he lifted the lid to reveal a small diamond ring set in a thin gold band, encrusted with tiny rubies. "What d'you say?"

For a moment, Harry was speechless. "I'm flattered Ron, but I'm in love with your sister." He looked up into Ron's eyes, waiting for the tirade to start. Instead, Ron just erupted with laughter.

"Oh, Harry! This isn't for you! It's for Hermione! I just wanted your opinion! Come on mate, I'm not a pouf!" He sat down next to Harry and held the little ring up to the light. "So, what do you think?"

Harry smiled at his friend and took the ring. "I think Hermione will love it. Not to mention that it's Gryffindor colors, that should make her proud. When are you going to propose?"

"Tonight, during dessert. I'm so nervous I can't think straight!" He took the ring back and placed it into the little box, safely shoving it back into his pocket. "We were in Diagon Alley the other day, just shopping for some random necessities, and we passed by that wedding shop near Fred and George's. I just kept going, but Hermione stopped and looked at this one dress in the window. I saw her there, looking at that dress, I tell you it must've cost a fortune, and I just knew. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. So, I popped back here and picked up my Great Grandmother's ring. At least I think it's my Great Grandmother's. . .it could be my Great, Great Grandmother's. . .but I'm not entirely sure. All I know is that tonight, I am going to ask Hermione Granger to be my wife." He turned and looked at his friend, a grin plastered to his face unlike any before seen.

"I'm happy for you, Ron. Both you and Hermione are going to be so happy together. It'll be good for the two of you to have some happiness." Harry smiled merrily at his best friend. He only hoped Hermione would say yes. He had a feeling that something, or someone, was holding her back. He'd had that feeling ever since sixth year, and he could only hope and pray that Hermione had finally let him go.

"Boys! Girls! Dinner is ready! Oh, and Fred and George are here! Come down before it goes cold!" Mrs. Weasley's voice carried through the house, reaching the ears of any living creature within it's walls.

"Be right down mum!" Ron turned to Harry. "Wish me luck?"

"Like you'll need it! Come on." Harry jumped up, pulling Ron with him as they tore down the stairs. They ran into Ginny and Hermione on their way down, and their entrance into the kitchen was nothing short of disaster. As they spilled into the already packed room Fred, George, Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Lupin, Luna Lovegood, and a petulant looking Neville Longbottom accosted them. Hermione practically burst with happiness.

"Oh, you're all here! Oh, this is just too good to be true!" She managed to hug every single person before they all finally found their way to their seats at the long table that was spread before them. On it was spread more food that they could have imagined. There weren't many places that held this much food left, what with the war and everything.

"I thought we could all do with a nice, big, family dinner for this celebration. Come on, tuck in everyone!" Mrs. Weasley waved her wand and sparkles erupted all around the room, bathing everyone in a magical glow that warmed everyone's hearts in this dark and dreary night.

* * *

Dinner passed with such ease and vivacity that Hermione hardly noticed her dessert when Ron placed it before her. She looked over at him, a smile playing at her lips. She realized that at this moment in time, she could never feel more content, any safer than she did right now.

"Hermione?" She turned to Ron, her mirth growing with every second.

"Yes, Ron?" Smiling at him, she placed her hand on his knee.

"I have something for you. Well, it's more of a question, but…well…anyway." Without further ado, he slid from his chair, allowing one knee to touch the floor, the other leg left bent. As he reached into his pocked, Hermione could feel her eyes growing wide with amazement. And then he pulled out a small velvet box, presenting it to her warmly. "Hermione Jane Granger, would you do me to honor of becoming my wife?" He was looking up at her with such happiness, such hope that all Hermione could think to do was fling herself at him. Throwing her arms around his neck, she practically screamed with joy.

"Of course, Ron! Yes, yes, yes I'll marry you!" She laughed as his arms engulfed her, their smiles bringing unbelievable light into the room.

"What's all this about?" Fred's voice was barely heard by the couple as they separated. Ron beamed at her as he slid the delicate ring onto her finger, the gems glinting in the light.

Hermione turned to their friends and family. "Ron and I are getting married!" The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of champagne and laughter among friends and family. It seemed that life could not get any better.

* * *

Later that evening, when all were asleep, the crack of apparation was heard just beyond the Weasley's front door. Minerva McGonagall and various other members of the order made their way silently into the Burrow, their presence going almost unknown as the night went on. Only Mr. Weasley knew they had arrived, and as he crept down the stairs and into the kitchen he could feel the tension of the news they bore.

"Arthur, wonderful to see you." Minerva's voice was terse and clipped, and Arthur knew something horrid was about to be uttered.

"What's wrong?" He sat at the table and gestured for all to sit, but only Minerva took a seat beside him. She took his hand in hers, worried etched over her features.

"We've been forced to agree to something terrible." She could not meet his eyes.

"What do you mean? I thought everything was well. Harry's been saying such wonderful things. What's going on?" Something was not right, and Arthur knew a storm was coming.

"What's going on here?" Mrs. Weasley appeared by the stove, and all was silent.

"Molly, please sit, Minerva was just about to tell me something that I think you should hear." After she had taken at the seat across from Minerva, Arthur looked pointedly at McGonagall. "Now, what's this business all about?"

* * *

Hermione woke pleasantly, and found she could not possibly be more happy than she was at this moment. Rolling over, she found herself looking into the very familiar eyes of Ron Weasley. "Good morning." She smiled broadly. He returned the gesture.

"Good morning." He leaned in and kissed her, this moment of adorableness growing even more so with every passing minute.

"I think we should get married next month. I mean, with all that's been happening, I think people could do with some happiness. We've found ours, but I think that other people need to be reminded of that fact more and more with the passing times. I don't think life has been harder for anyone than it has these past few months." Hermione's speech was fast, but Ron was barely listening.

"What ever you think is best." He grinned at her, and she blushed furiously. He pulled her to him, and just as they were giggling and rolling around the bed like children, Harry burst through the door.

"They have a right to know!" He slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two before him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's voices could barely be heard beyond the thick wood, and Hermione and Ron were more curious now than ever.

"What's going on Harry? We're sorta in the middle of something." Ron's voice was playful, and Hermione giggled even more.

"I think the two of you should get dressed. We have some things to talk about." His voice was cold, his face stern. "I'll be waiting just outside." He left without another word, and Ron and Hermione wasted no time dragging on their clothes and opening the door to him once more. When he came back in, he paced before them for a good five minutes, glancing at them every so often only to look away as soon as he caught their eyes.

"Harry! Would you please stop pacing and tell us what's going on?" He froze and looked at Ron. He looked at Hermione. They looked so happy sitting there together. He didn't think he had to the heart to tell them. Unfortunately, he knew he had no other choice.

"You can't get married." No way blunter than that.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione shook her head and stared at him. He must be crazed.

"You can't get married. It's as simple as that. There's nothing I can do about it, and there's nothing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley can do about it. You can't get married, you can't live happily ever after, and you can't ever see each other again." He could feel the tears building up, and he refused to let them fall.

"What are you talking about Harry? We're getting married! And there's nothing you, the Ministry, of even Voldemort can do about it!" Ron's rage was biting, and Harry hated it.

"I'm sorry Ron. You can't get married. Hermione is to be traded." He looked at Hermione, and waited.

"Traded! Have you lost your mind!" Ron was close to killing him, but he couldn't look away from Hermione. She would understand.

"Yes, Ron, traded. The official papers were drawn up last night. It was the Minister's idea. Both sides met last night. I guess he was in a panic. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were there, and apparently the idea is that Voldemort wants something that means something to me. And, he's willing to give something up in return. Truthfully, the offer was too good to pass up, according to the Minister. McGonagall came by last night and told Arthur and Molly. They told me when I came down for breakfast this morning." He was afraid to look at Ron, because if he did he wouldn't be able to let Hermione go. He would see the hurt and pain there, and he couldn't let himself be drawn into it. He had to be the driving force, the stone-cold pillar that was holding everything together. If nothing else, he could be the bad guy for Ron, if that's what he wanted. He didn't care, but right now, this was all that mattered.

* * *

The door closed behind him quietly, but the sound it made echoed in the silent walls of the Burrow. Not a single sound was heard through out the house. When he reached the kitchen, everyone was there. Fred and George were slouched together by the door, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley huddled at the end of the table, Ginny and Luna sat silently by Neville, eyes closed solemnly while Neville tried to contain himself. Tonks and Lupin sat quietly together by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waiting for any sign of hope. When Harry accidentally knocked over a pot, the clang was so loud the birds feeding on the grass outside fluttered into flight. Everyone looked up at him expectantly. He shrugged.

"They're talking. I didn't have anything else to say." He slumped into a chair beside Ginny, holding his head in his hands as gravity pressed on him.

* * *

"You're not going! It isn't fair, and it isn't right! They'll kill you over there! I don't care what _treaty_ HE signs, he's still a bastard and a liar and he'll kill you the first chance he gets! You're NOT GOING!" Ron had exploded as soon as Harry had left the room. He had begun pacing about the room, waving his hands about wildly screaming at no one in particular, but screaming nonetheless. All the while, Hermione sat numbly at the foot of the bed, not a single thought roaming her head as she listened to his rant. Her only thought was that of the look on Harry's face as he spoke earlier. How torn he had looked as he begged her with his eyes to understand. And then, it was as if she could no longer control herself. She could feel the tears as they streaked down her cheeks. She looked down at the beautiful ring Ron had given her, twisted it around her finger, pulled it off. Standing, she moved towards Ron, stopping him in pace. He was suddenly silent. "Hermione."

She could no longer control the sobs she'd been holding back. They tore from her like daggers to her heart as she wrestled with her duty. Her legs could no longer hold her up, and she melted to the floor, clutching her arms around her chest as she wept. Ron's arms found their way about her, and soon he was clasping her to him as if she were a lifeline he could never let go of. They remained thus for what seemed like years before Hermione's tears began to ebb, and she pulled back to look at him. He himself had tears in his eyes, and she gazed at him with all the love in her heart.

It was then that he understood. "No. No, no, no, no, no." His tears fell silently as his heart broke. She touched his cheek.

"I love you, Ron. I always will." Her voice was choked and broken. "Never forget that. I will always love you." She kissed him. She poured everything she had into that kiss, and when she could no longer bear it, she held him close, inhaling as much of his scent as she could before she tore away. Grabbing her wand she fled down the stairs, leaving Ron alone in an empty room with an empty heart.

* * *

He couldn't feel anything anymore. He was running through the forest, running to get away, running to find some place to hide. His heart tore at his chest, begging to be relieved, but he couldn't stop now. He could only continue to run. And then he was falling. He'd tripped over some inconspicuous piece of wood, and now he was on the ground. Tumbling and turning, he somehow managed to get back up, somehow managed to not notice the fact that he was covered in blood, somehow manage to get to the portkey and be torn away into the night.

"Aaaaraaagh!" He landed sharply on his side, crushing his arm as he cold marble pressed up against him. He opened his eyes to find the familiar walls of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. It was different now, of course, but he knew this room by heart and no change could be made that would make him forget. And then his aunt swam into view.

"Get up Draco! The Dark Lord is waiting for your report! GET UP!" She was screaming at him. His ears rang with her voice as he rolled to his other side and slowly managed to stand. "Hurry! Hurry up!" He could barely walk, but he made it into the dungeons. Bellatrix was close behind him as they hurriedly made their way into what used to be the Slytherin Commonroom. They were met with five Deatheaters guarding the portal to the Dark Lord's chambers. He quickly made his way through the swirling smoke and found himself standing on a dais surrounded by followers shrouded in masks. Before him, on a thrown of black glass sat his Dark Lord. Before him was Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Hermione stood before the mirror in her room at Grimmauld Place. Ginny was there with her, pinning her hair and arranging her robes around her. She was made to look presentable for Voldemort, although she failed to see the point. She knew as soon as she stepped from the fireplace she would be killed. She knew that she would never see Harry or Ginny again. She knew she would never have a family dinner with the Weasley's again. And she knew that she and Ron would never have a family of their own, and _that_ was the most heartbreaking truth of them all. Ginny's faint sobs drew her from her thoughts.

"Oh, Ginny. Don't cry! Please don't cry!" She turned to her friend, pulling her into a fierce hug as she tried to contain her own tears. "If you start to cry, then I'll never be able to leave." Ginny hugged her back, and then she pulled away.

"I'm sorry Hermione, but I can't say goodbye to you. Maybe Harry can just toss you away, but I can't watch you go to your death! I can't watch you accept that fate! I won't do it! I'm sorry!" And then she was gone. Hermione sat on her bed, staring out the door after her. There was a soft knock, and Harry slowly made his way to her.

"It's time to go. They're expecting you." His face was like that of a statue. His voice was cold and harsh, and all Hermione could do was nod.

She stood and walked out the door, grabbing her wand and slipping it into the pocket of her robes as she left. Making her way down the stairs, she could hear Ginny in her and Harry's room. She could hear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in their room as she passed their door. She heard Luna in her room. And when she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the parlor, she saw the faces of people she cared about. She made to move to the fireplace, but a hand on her own stopped her. Turning she saw Harry clasping her hand in his. His eyes found hers. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender and strong kiss to her knuckles before dropping her hand and folding his mask of ice back into place.

Hermione moved to the fireplace and looked one last time around her. He wasn't there. She hadn't expected him to be, but she had hoped. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. Just as she threw down the powder and shouted, 'Ministry of Magic,' she saw him tear around the corner and into the parlor, his eyes locking on the green flames in the fireplace as they enveloped her.

He hadn't even said goodbye.

* * *

When she stepped out of the fireplace at the Ministry of Magic, the Minister and several of the Aurors greeted her. She smiled weakly at McGonagall, a smile that was not returned but only acknowledged as she was led into a small room containing only a table. On the table sat a singular object. She knew it to be a portkey, but she was a little surprised at what the object was. It was a finger.

"Now, Miss Granger, this portkey will take you directly to Hogwarts. As you know, it has been taken by the Dark Lord, and you shall be met with Deatheaters as soon as you arrive. This portkey has been created for this sole purpose and will no longer exist once you arrive. This is a one-way trip, Miss Granger, and you shall never be returning to us." The Minister finished his little speech and left the room. Hermione was left alone with the portkey and her sorrow. Closing her eyes, she breathed heavily before opening her eyes and stepping forward and taking the portkey in her hand.

* * *

"My Lord." As his shocked expression was masked, she bowed her head and waited. She had made her move, and now all there was left to do was wait for him to accept. He spoke.

"How dare you? How dare you come into my domain and humiliate me this way!" She had expected this. "You know we cannot touch you! You know the treaty forbids it! So I ask again, how dare you!" She blinked once. When she opened her eyes again, she raised her head and looked him in the eye.

"I am part of the treaty. You should know this. . .unless you have yet to sign it. In that case, I might as well leave." She began to stand, but a boot on her hand froze her in place.

"Part of the treaty you say?" His voice was cold.

She flinched as his boot pressed down on her hand. "Yes. Part of the treaty. Why else would I be here?" Her voice was equally cold.

"Ah, well, signing that treaty should be very prudent then shouldn't it?" He turned to his left. "Bring me the treaty." The man beside him aparated out of the room. The boot lifted from her hand. "As for you, I say it is high time you were marked. Hold her." Two men stepped forward and took hold of her arms, yanking her up as they did.

"I'm not going to run away!" She shook free of them. "I am here to honor the treaty that is signed by both sides! I will stand on my own, without your help!" Her eyes were fierce as the men backed away from her. The man on the throne chuckled as he stood.

"It is a fairly painful process. Their purpose of holding you was merely so you wouldn't faint from exhaustion. But, to each their own. I am a merciful Lord, and I was only thinking of your welfare, of course. You may refuse their help, but you will eventually take it." Raising her head high, she thrust her left arm out towards him, bracing herself for the inevitable pain.

He chuckled again. "Oh my dear, I couldn't help noticing the extremely low back of the gown you're wearing. Turn." She gritted her teeth as she slowly spun to face the crowd before her. One pair of eyes caught hers. They bled with unshed tears of silver and pain. Her own golden brown eyes were full of fear as she felt the cold tip of a wand press into her back. Pain blistered across her flesh as the spell was cast, marring her skin for all to see. As the sting spread down her spine, she felt a single tear trickle down her cheek. A matching stream flowed from silver eyes at her feet.

The wand lifted from her skin and a last blast of pain splintered over her body. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he spoke. "Turn." She obeyed. Her eyes met his as his handiwork was displayed for all to see. A single gasp echoed through the room. Splaying the length of her back, from shoulder-line to hip-line, a writhing tattoo swirled in black over her delicate flesh. The one mark she swore she would never allow to touch her skin.

The Dark Mark.

* * *

He sat, his head held delicately in his hands. He breathed, his chest heavy with some unknown weight. There was no air in the room for him to breath. There was no light. There was no warmth. He was so cold, so frigid and lost…and alone.

There was a knock on the door. He inhaled deeply before sitting straight in his chair. "Come in." He clasped his hands gingerly in his lap.

The door opened to reveal a tired looking Blaise Zabini and trailing behind him, a hooded figure. "The Dark Lord had me bring her to you. She's to stay with you." He waited for Draco to dismiss him.

"Thank you Blaise, you may go." Blaise bowed his head and left quietly, closing the door behind him as he went.

Draco looked at the girl before him. He was about to speak when she removed her hood. He was at a loss for words. This lasted a grand total of seven seconds, but it was still there. When he'd regained his composure, he made to stand, but the sharp pain in his leg protested. "Argmph!" He fell back into the chair, but not before she was at his side, balancing him. Everywhere she touched burned, and only when her hands retreated did he feel the ice she'd left.

Once he was safely stable back in his chair, she stepped away from him. He gazed up at her. Her eyes were full of defiance and pain. He pulled his mask on and looked out the window. "These rooms are my apartments here. However, if the Dark Lord wishes you to stay with me, we shall move to the Manor and accommodations shall be arranged for you there. Is this clear?" Only then did he look back at her. His eyes pierced hers. She shattered.

"How dare you talk to me as if I'm a child! You know just as well as I do that I shouldn't be here! I had to give up everything just so that stupid _treaty_ could be signed and for what! I get to live with you and your sour attitude! I get to endure your snide remarks, your biting insults and your prejudice beliefs! Not only yours, but everyone else's around here! Not to mention—"

"That is quite enough!" His voice boomed through the small room. She was instantly silent. "You cannot speak to me that way here! You are in _my_ world now and you must do as _I_ say!" She glared at him. Before he could react, she had stormed forward, drawing her wand, pressing it into his throat. This close, he could see the tears in her eyes.

"How dare you?" Her voice was merely a whisper, but he could hear the sobs hiding behind her rage. He felt the ice return as she glared at him. But as she glared, he felt her rage succumbing to the sadness in her eyes. She closed her eyes, turned away, opened her eyes and looked away. Her breathing was ragged and pained, and her grip on her wand was loosening every second.

Before he could think, Draco's hand found its way to her cheek, turning her to face him. He looked into her eyes, and then her tears fell. She dropped her wand in his lap, her hand gripping his shirt as she crumpled to the floor at his feet. His hand remained on her cheek, still turning her eyes up to his own. Her free hand grasped his wrist, stroking his arm and moving over his hand to interlace her fingers with his. And then she was sobbing. She leaned into him, her head resting on his knee as cry after cry wracked through her body.

They remained that way for hours, until finally, silence engulfed them. She turned her head up to his, their eyes met. Her mouth moved before she'd formed the thought. "What is going to happen to me?"

And it was then that he saw it. She was terrified. Hermione Granger, the radiant and powerful princess of the Golden Trio, was terrified. And he, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince and Deatheater, could offer no words of comfort. When he spoke, his voice, though cold resonated with emotion. "You must learn your place. You must learn it quickly. When someone gives you a command, you must obey. You must learn to hide yourself…or you will be killed." He stroked her cheek, and as he did, her hand clasped his once more. And then they were silent.

* * *

_Okay so, AN: If anybody is wondering, which you might or might not be, the whole point of this story is about how Hermione has to be given to Voldemort because of the idiocy of politics. Now, because of this, she's thrust into this world of deception and lies, and one, ultimately where if she does not find her footing, she will lose her life. To put more of a fine-point on it, she must change into one of them, before she can truly become herself…if that makes sense…_

_And okay, wow, I sooooo did not mean for this fic to get as dark as it's gotten, and unfortunately I have a feeling that it's going to get a shitload darker…My sincere apologies. I hope that everyone is still reading who originally started from the beginning, and I hope that you feel the need to leave a review and tell me if it's complete utter shit (in which case I'll do something drastic and fix it) or if you just want to tell me you love it. Either one is appreciated…cause seriously, I'm dying for input._

_So, thanks for reading, and I hope you stay tuned for the following chapters!_

_-The Crimson Sheath_


	5. Frozen

There was a light rap on the door. It drew her from sleep like a drug. Slowly, she turned in her bed, her eyes drifting open. The light rapping came again. She moaned softly as she disentangled herself from the sheets and stood. Moving to the door, she nearly tripped over the long nightgown she was wearing, and had to stop and groggily pick up the edges to make walking possible.

She reached the door just as the light rapping became more insistent and blearily, she opened the door to admit her tormentor. When she saw who was standing at her door, she immediately became more alert. "Yes?"

"Breakfast is ready. Our Lord shall be dinning with us. Get dressed." Malfoy spoke in clipped tones, as if he was struggling with inner demons.

She nodded. "I'll be ready in a moment. Thank you for waking me." He inclined his head and turned away as she closed the door softly.

It had been two months. Hermione had officially been a Deatheater for two whole months. And it was eating her alive. Every waking moment she could feel the twisted evil of the magic that bound her to the Dark Lord. Every second of every day was utter torture for her. She would wake in the mornings, dine with Draco Malfoy, and follow him through his duties. She watched, and she learned. They had never spoke since her first night. They were barely ever alone together again, and when they were neither dared to speak.

The day after she had been marked, Malfoy had taken her to Malfoy Manor. She had been given her own suite of rooms, in a separate wing of the house than Draco, and a schedule of what she was to do every day. There were dancing lessons, etiquette lessons, dining lessons, and most importantly, the long hours of the day she spent following Malfoy. After the third day of this, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She had stormed away from Malfoy, screaming about how she had never wanted any of this, and slammed her bedroom door as she entered. That night, however, when she went down for dinner, she was given no food. He never even looked at her. From that moment on, she did everything she was told, and she never once complained.

This morning, Hermione went into her closet and chose a lovely morning dress of light blue encrusted with pale blue crystals. She had been given an entire wardrobe upon her arrival to the Manor, and she was expected to wear only what she was given. After slipping into the dress and pulling on some delicate heels, she pulled her hair up into a loose twist, leaving some faint tendrils to grace her face before putting on her make-up. A few moments later, and she was ready.

Finding her way to the dining room now was like walking the back of her hand. The first week she had taken great care to note where every room of the Manor was located, and the easiest and quickest way to get there. She was quite proud of herself, although she would tell no one.

When she arrived in the dining room, Draco was already seated, but when she entered, he stood, inclining his head to her. She nodded lightly back. She moved to sit across from him, at the opposite end of the table, when the Dark Lord entered the room. He swept in with his robes billowing about him and Hermione was all too suddenly reminded of Professor Snape and her Potions class. She fought to stifle a giggle, and bent low to her Lord before moving to her seat. His voice stopped her.

"Oh, Hermione, my dear, won't you come sit beside me." He took his place at the head of the table, where Draco usually sat, and motioned for her to sit on his right. It was where Draco normally would have been seated on such an occasion, but he waited silently for her to arrive at her seat before pulling out the chair and allowing her to be seated before moving around to the Dark Lord's left. Hermione kept her head down and waited for her food. But then she felt something cold on her hand, and jerked when she saw it was a hand. A hand belonging to the Dark Lord.

"Hermione, darling, how have you been?" His voice dripped with venom. She fought the urge to cringe.

"Everything has been going well, My Lord." She bowed her head to him. "Thank you for inquiring." He scoffed.

"No need to be so formal!" His hand moved to her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you." His voice was so soft and velvety that Hermione was taken completely by surprise. She blinked several times before regaining her speech.

"Of course, My Lord." She met his eyes carefully, trying to keep all her emotions hidden behind her mask of indifference.

"Wonderful." The food arrived then, allowing Hermione to look away and begin to eat. Only moments later did the Dark Lord speak. "Now, I would like to get to the matter of which I am here." Hermione placed her fork and knife neatly over her plate and folded her hands in her lap, awaiting the Dark Lord's instruction. Draco placed his own fork on the table and clasped his hands on his knee.

"What do you wish to discuss, Lord?" He was all honey.

"The matter of Miss Granger. I find that she is in lack of a husband." Hermione almost choked. "I also find, Draco, that you are in lack of a wife." Draco's body went rigid as the Dark Lord continued to speak. "I have decided that the two of you shall wed." Draco began to protest. "This is final, Draco. It is not a negotiable matter." Looking pointedly at Draco, he continued on. "Hermione, dove, what is your opinion of this matter?"

* * *

In all his years, Draco Malfoy had never heard the Dark Lord ask for someone's opinion. Of course, he had certain people that he would listen to from time to time, his aunt being one of them, but never in a million years did Draco think that the Dark Lord would ask a muggleborn for their opinion. He watched Hermione carefully, awaiting her answer. She seemed the perfect image of composure, but Draco could see behind her mask. She was just as shocked as he was. But then she cleared her throat lightly and spoke.

"I think My Lord is very wise. I will gladly follow any instruction He lays upon me." Draco couldn't believe what he was seeing…and hearing. "If that wish is for Draco and I to wed, than I shall be more than happy to oblige." Draco watched her intently as she looked upon the Dark Lord. No one every looked at him, really _looked_, and here she was looking, _seeing_, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her calmness irked Draco to no end.

"My Lord, wouldn't someone of higher rank and age be a better match for Miss Granger? I mean, surely—"

"Silence, Draco!" His voice was like ice. The room was deathly quiet. His dark eyes burned. "Hermione is more than willing to accept you as her husband, so what reason could you possibly have to say no?" He turned his dark gaze upon Draco, and the fire was tangible in the thick air. "As I have decreed it, it shall be done. The wedding shall be set for a month from Sunday. Your mother has graciously agreed to see to all the arrangements in the interim. There shall be an engagement ball in a week." Abruptly, the Dark Lord stood, Draco and Hermione following. "I believe I shall leave you to your breakfast. I find I am no longer hungry. Please, enjoy your meal without me. I shall see you in a week." And with that, he was gone. And the room was suddenly colder.

His eyes never left her. She sat again quietly, picking up her fork and continuing to shift her food around on her plate, occasionally bringing it to her lips and taking a bite. And then he couldn't take it any longer.

"I will not marry you!" His voice cut the silence and she froze. She placed her fork down on her plate once more and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes rose to meet his, they were cold.

"The Dark Lord has decreed it, Draco. We shall be married in a month whether we like it or not." She was like ice, chilling him to the bone.

"I WILL NOT MARRY YOU!" He exploded. He was burning, his skin scalding as he stood silently. His breathing ragged, he found his voice again. "We will not be married in a month, you will move out of his house, and you shall trouble me no more!" His hands had become fists as he spoke, his knuckles turning white with his anger. His body shook with rage. "I will not marry you."

* * *

Hermione's calm had cracked. She could feel the walls she had built up slowly breaking as his anger washed over her like waves. _He_ was supposed to be the calm and collected one! _He_ was the one who was supposed to be telling her what to do, not the other way around!

She closed her eyes tightly, inhaling deeply before standing, placing her napkin on the table beside her plate. Locking her eyes with his, Hermione dug deep for her Gryffindor courage, and took the first step. She moved around the table, letting her hand trail lightly over the hard surface as she moved. His eyes never left hers. And when she reached him, she stepped firmly within his bubble and ran her hand over his cheek, her knuckles dragging gently down his jaw, fingers tracing the slight curve of his lower lip. And then, Hermione Granger said the few words that would haunt her for months to come.

"We shall do as our Dark Lord commands us."

* * *

It was dark. There was no light by which to see. The curtains blew softly in the breeze, the brush of it caressing her as she stood. The sky was beautiful at night. This much Hermione had come to love about her new home. The stars shown brightly over her, twinkling, sparkling. The moon was dim, and dull, as if concealed by a veil. There were no clouds. A single tear rolled over her cheek. A single finger wiped that tear away. She breathed deep the cool evening air.

The week was almost over. She and Draco had spent little time together. Most of Hermione's days were filled with planning for the engagement ball and dancing lessons. She found herself going through the days in a haze, never really committing to what she was doing. Only at night did she breathe in the cool air her lungs so desperately craved. Only at night did she let the delicate thoughts of Ron and Harry creep into the crevices of her mind and fester until morning. Only at night did she let herself writhe as the anguish grew steadily in her stomach. Only at night did she softly cry.

* * *

Breakfast was quiet. There were two days left until the engagement party. Draco Malfoy was thoroughly annoyed with Hermione Granger. She never looked at him. She never touched him. She never did anything she wasn't asked to do. It was driving him mad. Breakfast was too quiet.

"How have you been?" His voice was deep and grave. He could feel the coarse vibration running through his body as he spoke.

She looked up at him. Ah! That was why she was never looking at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks were puffy. She'd been crying. He thought she would never cry. "I've been well. I'm enjoying my dancing lessons. And your mother has been very helpful in planning the engagement ball." Looking back down at her breakfast, she took a bite, eyes never leaving her food.

He'd had enough.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" His fists banged down on the table, rattling plates and sending glasses crashing to the floor. Hermione dropped her fork, the sound of metal on china echoing through the room as it clattered into her lap. He could barely stand her calm demeanor as she picked up her fork and placed it on her plate. Then her eyes found his.

"I beg your pardon?" She was not the Hermione Granger he remembered from school.

"What the hell is wrong with you? What happened to Hermione Granger? Where did the feisty lioness from Hogwarts go? You're not supposed to be so cool and collected! And you most certainly are not supposed to bow down to the Dark Lord like a dog that's been beat too much! So, I'll say again. What the hell happened to you!" He could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, carving little half-moons of blood as he raged on. He couldn't take another minute of this torture, of this silence and complacency. He was about to rage on at her, but then he saw something change in her eyes. And then he wondered something. He chose his next words carefully. "Why would Hermione Granger, a filthy _Mudblood_, who supposedly loathes the very ground I walk on, consent to marry me on the demand of a Dark Lord she's sworn to fight against with her dying breath? I wonder what she would have to say about you now?" His voice had grown cold and hard. He hadn't meant for his words to be so cruel, but perhaps that was exactly what she needed. However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

* * *

Hermione breathed slowly. Truthfully she didn't know how to answer him. He'd asked her a question to which she had never really given thought. Frankly, she was flabbergasted that he would even bring it up. Be that as it may, she still had no intention of actually giving him the real answer, the answer that she had been wrestling with for the past few months without ever really coming to a definitive conclusion. She breathed in and out, allowing her breath to calm her fraying nerves. When she finally did speak, her voice was much more calmer than she had originally thought it to be.

"I am marrying you because I have learned my place in this world, and I have come to accept it. I suggest you do the same." Turning to leave, a thought struck her as she moved around the table and away from him. _I really am becoming a Death Eater._ And the thought shook her to her core. She was more shaken now that she had ever been in her entire life. It took all her will to make it past Malfoy's piercing gaze and out the door. Once out into the suffocating halls of Malfoy Manor, it was all she could do to not bolt straight for her room and stay there until the engagement was announced and she could just get the whole thing over. When she finally did reach her room, the door closed firmly behind her, Hermione Granger collapsed to the floor, her head buried in her hands as the tears flowed freely at last.

* * *

Standing alone in the dinning room, Draco Malfoy was completely lost for words. It was the 'pop' of a house elf apparating to clear the table tat brought Draco out of his thoughts. He nodded briefly at the little creature before turning on his heal and storming his way through the Manor, hell-bent on getting some answers. And there was only one place he was going to get those.

As he rounded the corner, his eyes fixing on the door before him, he found himself incapable of banging the door open. He found himself hesitating, hovering before the door, hoping that this confrontation might do some good.

At last he found his hand moving, finally his knuckles rapping lightly against the hard wood of the door. He heard a muffled gasp, felt the movement and rustle of clothes as she moved. And then there was a warmth emanating from the wood. It was a warmth that seeped through his palm, pressed against the door, pressing for answers. It was only now that he realized that it was answers he was seeking, and not a desire to drive her over the edge to become something she no longer was. He slowly opened the door.

Stepping inside, he found himself shrouded in darkness. Closing the door softly behind him, he searched the room for her, and when he finally spotted her in the dim light, he wished he hadn't. Although she stood regally, as if commanding an army before her, the withered look on her face made his heart ache. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks splotchy. And even though her eyes met his, her gaze was nervous and unsure. And it was then that he realized. She was afraid. He stepped towards her. "Hermione—"

"Don't." Her voice was like ice. "Don't pretend that you care for one second. Don't you dare." It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to send chills down Draco's spine…chills that were soon engulfed with fury.

"You think that I don't care?" Even he could feel the shock in his voice.

"Of course you don't care. You never have." Her shoulders squared evenly as her body tensed.

"After all we've been through—"

"Yes, after all we've been through!" Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her body swaying dangerously towards him. "Especially after all we've been through!" She moved then, her feet carrying her soundlessly across the floor, growing closer with each passing moment. "After all we've been through I'm sure now more than ever that you would gladly watch me die with a smile on your face. I'm sure that you would gladly enjoy bearing witness to all the pain and suffering I've been through because of his stupid, ridiculous, absurd war! I'm sure that there is not a bone in your body that has ever, _ever_, cared for someone other than yourself." She was just before him now, the warmth of her body touching him through all the tension and anger. He felt himself give up as she spoke, each word driving it harder and harder home that she was right. There had been a time when he hadn't cared, when he didn't _want_ to care. She was right, and that thought scared him to no end.

"You're right." Her eyes widened. "At least you were once. I'm not that boy anymore, Hermione. I don't think that boy could survive in this world. He wouldn't last one day." His hand brushed her cheek. She flinched away only to be drawn back by the feather-light fingertips against her arm. "I do care, Hermione." She visibly started, eyes glistening at the thought. And then, as she swayed gently forward, hand pressing lightly against his chest, his lips danced over hers. It was a ghost of a kiss, but it was more than enough. Within moments, Draco Malfoy found himself holding her sobbing form against his chest, wishing he could make it all go away, and only finding that the most he could do was hold her. The greatest gift he had to offer her was just this.

He pressed a kiss to her hair, finding his own tears falling down his cheeks, and realized then that this moment, this one solitary moment, was the one that made their past, their history, their tragedy, part of their future.

* * *

The morning was cold. It shouldn't have been. The fire in her room was lit, the windows closed. And yet, somehow, cold air was just drafting in from all over the place. It could have been her nerves, or it could have been her cold demeanor that was making everything that morning icy. Even her breakfast was cold. It was one of her favorite dishes too. Eggs Benedict. She loved Eggs Benedict. And this morning she just couldn't bring herself to actually eat it. There she sat, in the grand dinning room of Malfoy Manor, her husband-to-be sitting across from her, his eyes fixed on the Daily Prophet, his plate blissfully devoid of food, and she could not take one, single, solitary bite of food. It was driving her mad. And it was only 10:00 in the morning! _Oh for fucks sake!_ She stood up abruptly, causing her chair to scrape horrendously against the marble floor. "I'm going for a walk." With that, she turned and walked out of the dinning room, through the halls, into the library and out the terrace doors and into the cool, brisk morning air. Hermione was immediately confronted by a horrible wind, catching her dress up and whipping it about her. She relished in the freezing air, allowing it to awaken her senses to what was coming.

The whole staff of the Manor was in high order as they worked for the night's coming festivities. The entirety of the Dark Lord's following would be attending tonight. The highest of the Elite. Minus one, of course. Belllatrix Lestrange had been sent off immediately after Hermione's arrival to the Ministry of Magic for the bargain to be actually effective. She found herself smiling at the thought of Bella imprisoned and tortured by the Aurors. Then she grimaced at the though of Harry actually torturing someone. _No, don't think of Harry._ _Don't think of any of them. They don't exist in my world anymore._

Hermione wrapped her arms around her, pulling her light sweater tighter around her chest as she walked slowly to the edge of the terrace and looked out over the grounds. If she was honest with herself, they really were quite beautiful. Directly before her lay a large field of lush grass where preparations were well underway for the coming evening. Beyond that there was a grand fountain that stretched from one end of the Manor to the other, the main fountain spouts located at the middle of the house with mirroring spouts fanning out all the way to the end. She could see further outward the great guest apartments where all the guests of the evening would be hosted after the party. All around the Manor lay the gardens complete with hedge maze and rose garden. Unconsciously, Hermione found herself wandering towards the hedge maze with no real thought as to her current circumstance. It was only after she'd entered the maze and gotten thoroughly lost in it that she realized where she was. "Oh this just perfect." She sighed before dropping onto the bench situated between two rose pots on the side of the path. Crossing her legs, Hermione propped her chin on her palm, her elbow on her knee and waited. Having left without her wand, she would just have to wait until someone came out and found her. _This is going to take forever._

It was just as Hermione had come to this thought that someone rather unexpected appeared in the shadows of the maze.

* * *

Draco watched, puzzled, as Hermione left the dinning room. He then listened as she promptly left the house all together. Folding his Prophet and placing it on the table beside his plate he noticed that hers was completely untouched. He frowned. _She really should eat something._ He stood, straightening his clothes as he did so, and walked out of the dinning room. His mother found him soon after, reading in the library.

"Draco, have you seen Hermione? I need to talk with her about some things for this evening." She walked over to the terrace doors, peering out them over the grounds. She was nowhere to be seen.

"No, last time I saw her was an hour or so ago at breakfast. She didn't eat anything though. Have you checked her room?" Draco also moved to the terrace doors beside his mother, folding his book easily beneath his arm.

"Yes, Draco, I've checked the whole house. I'm actually very worried for her. None of the elves have seen her either." It was at this moment that Draco noticed his mother was unusually worrisome.

"Mother, what's going on?" He turned to face her, forcing Narcissa to look him in the eye. Her eyes were full of concern.

"Blaise is here." The terror behind her wavering voice was more than enough to send quivers through Draco's calm exterior.

* * *

"Hermione." His voice was silk. "How wonderful to see you." His hand trailed down her shoulder. "The sun does wonders with your skin." Her hand was suddenly in his. "Won't you walk with me?"

Hermione looked up into the eyes of Blaise Zabini with distaste. If there was anyone she would rather not have to put up with, it was him. Swallowing her disregard, she stood. "It would be my pleasure." He tucked her hand in this crook of his arm, pressing her dangerously close.

"You have no idea how greatly it pains me to see you marrying Draco. He's so undeserving of your…talents shall I say." They'd begun to move…in the direction, Hermione hoped, that would bring them out of the maze and into the sights of the Manor. "Really I feel it only my natural duty to warn you of the factors that shall condition your marriage." This gave Hermione pause.

"What ever might you mean, Blaise?" She hated the way his name rolled off her tongue.

"I mean that your life will be one of complete solitude should you go through with this. I mean to say, that although Draco will promise that always be true to you, and to never waver in his care, and all that, well…Draco, if anything is disloyal." He stopped their movement, his hand firmly gripping hers. "I beg you to reconsider."

"Blaise, regardless of your opinion on the matter, or of the 'factors that will condition' my marriage, it is the Dark Lord's will that Draco and I wed. Far be it from me to go against his power." Her hand was stinging from the pain, her nerves were brittle with tension as she awaited his eventual attack.

"Of course, it is the Dark Lord's will, and as such, one should follow. But I can't help wondering…if he really wanted you to flourish, why would he ask you to marry Draco? Of all the highly qualified people at his disposal, why choose the least qualified of them all?" Now he was facing her, his eyes boring into hers, his fingers digging deep into her flesh. She could feel the bruises begin to form as his nails continued to bite, to tear, to shred. Forcing herself to remain in his grasp, Hermione considered his words.

"Be that as it may, it is still His will. And as such, His will is law. I will follow His will with my dying breath, even if that may be to marry a man such as Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for you, you're just going to have to deal with that, regardless to how you feel the matter should be sorted." Her hair blew in the wind, his nails bit harder into her skin, and she struggled to keep her tears at bay. He was moving closer to her, invading, his lips forming into words when here was a noise behind her. It was a noise she was most grateful to hear.

"Blaise, you found her! I've been looking for you Hermione." Hermione turned to find Draco emerging with a House Elf from behind a hedge. "Mother needs to speak to you about tonight. Something about your dress." Blaise had released her arm as soon as Draco had come out of the green, stepping away from her and standing neutrally by the opposite hedge. Draco turned to Blaise. "You know you're early for the party tonight. I thought you wouldn't be arriving for at least another hour or so." He smiled at Blaise, welcoming him, but the smile was guarded. He was hiding something.

"Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I should probably go and find Narcissa. You know how she can get when it comes to dresses. Blaise, thank you for finding me in this maze, I was completely lost. I found our conversation most stimulating." She nodded her head at Draco before turning to follow the House Elf back into the Manor. When she had finally exited the maze and been delivered into the main parlor, Hermione sunk gratefully into an armchair and finally breathed. It was then that she realized that she'd been holding her breath since the moment she'd woken that morning.

* * *

Draco eyed Blaise as they walked the grounds carefully. There was something going on in his friend's head, and he was going to find out just exactly what it was. It was an interesting feeling to have, this burning rage to pummel Blaise. He'd never wanted to do it before, but for some reason, as soon as he'd seen him with Hermione in the maze, he'd felt a kind of predatory haze of violence cloud his mind and overcome his senses. He found that even now he was barely listening to the words coming from Blaise's mouth. It was most puzzling.

"Draco, are you sure you can marry her? I mean, she's a Mudblood for Merlin's sake! I'm astounded the Dark Lord even graced her with the Mark! He's slipping my friend, and he's slipping fast." Blaise's words burned into his skull.

"You should watch who you talk to like that Blaise. Not all of our friends will be as understanding as I am." They'd paused at the edge of the forest that surrounded the grounds. There was a path for them to walk on, but Draco felt it was time for them to start heading back. There was no telling how much his mother wanted to fuss about him in the hours before the party.

"I know, I know. But think about it Draco! She's a fucking Mudblood! He's forcing you to marry the one thing we've all sworn to rid the world of! She should be scrubbing the floors of the Manor, not waltzing about the halls as if she belongs." Draco watched his friend as he ranted. There was something different about the words he was saying. It was as if he was putting them on, as if he was pretending for the sake of keeping face. Still, he felt he should say something in defense of his wife-to-be. He just didn't know what. What he did know was that whenever Blaise had said 'Mudblood' he'd wanted to rip his throat out. That wasn't normal behavior at all.

"Blaise, regardless to what you say about Hermione, I'm going to marry her. The Dark Lord has commanded it, and as such, I must follow. It doesn't matter what I think of her, or what you think of her for that matter. All that _does_ matter is that she _is_ one of us now, and she will be treated with the respect that deserves. He blood is no longer a factor. The Dark Lord has seen to that. By his own hand, he has sanctified her blood, and made her one of us. As far as any of us _should_ be concerned, she's as Pureblooded as you or I. Anyone who dares to say otherwise is betraying our Lord, and should be punished for it! You should watch what you say Blaise. It's a dangerous slope you're slipping on." Draco straightened his shirt before moving to turn back to the house. "Now, I have some matters to attend to for the party tonight, so if you'll excuse me. But please, make yourself comfortable in the interim. I will speak with you again later this evening." With that, he turned on his heel and walked briskly back to the Manor. It was then that he realized that he'd meant every word he'd said to Blaise, and that terrified him.

* * *

The Manor was swimming with House Elves and hired squibs and servants preparing for the coming event. Green and silver silk drapes adorned the walls of the ballroom and the dining room. The foyer was swathed with shimmering gauze that glittered in the light. Hermione didn't think she could've seen anything more spectacular. The Manor itself was beautiful on it's own, but these embellishments only gave enhancement to the glory the Manor already possessed. Narcissa really had outdone herself.

"Hermione, dear, would you come upstairs with me? I believe it's time to start getting ready. When it's time to join everyone, Draco will come and get you." Narcissa ushered Hermione briskly through the foyer and up the grand staircase to her bedroom. Her dress was lain out on the bed, her matching shoes placed at the foot of the bed. The dress itself was a deep green satin, beaded with emeralds and diamonds. It had cap sleeves that dropped delicately over her shoulders. It was a silken sheath as she slid into it, the fabric sheathing her in its cool beauty. After she was fully dressed, shoes on her feet, stockings dressing her legs, dress set in perfect order, Narcissa herself set about fussing over her makeup. Hermione stood patiently, for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, as Narcissa dabbed and brushed her face into perfection. Her hair was next, something Hermione never thought to be an actual possibility, but Mrs. Malfoy had a trick or two up her sleeve. When Hermione finally opened her eyes, she saw in the mirror before her a vision in emerald. Her hair was tied up in a twist, thin ringlets whisping around her face. The dress shined in the light, the reflections of the jewels dazzling her as they sparkled. Her makeup was subtle, elegant, and it made her feel special.

It was at this moment that Narcissa came up behind her and draped and emerald and diamond teardrop necklace over her collarbone. "This has been in the Malfoy family for seven generations. I wore it at my engagement ball, and Lucius' mother before me. It has seen many powerful women through this family, and I hope it shall see many more." As Narcissa clasped it at the nape of Hermione's neck, she turned, hiding her eyes.

"Narcissa—"

"No, you must wear it. It is tradition." Hermione watched as the woman brought her hand to her lips, no doubt holding back emotions that had never been released.

"What do you mean by 'powerful women'?" Hermione placed a hand on Narcissa's shoulder, urging her to open, to let go. She was silent for many moments before she found her voice.

"For as long as I can remember, and from what I've learned from the portraits of the previous Malfoy women, each one was chosen by the male for their extraordinary gifts. Lady Alyssa Malfoy from 1752 was said to have done great things for the good of the world. She was a fierce woman. This was a time of great sorrow for witches and wizards. There was constant warring between factions and committees. This was just around the time the Ministry of Magic was formed. Lady Malfoy was solely responsible for bringing the factions together to form the Ministry. Her husband saw the greatness in her, and married her for it." Narcissa smiled at the history.

"Why have I not heard of her?"

"The Malfoy's have since fallen from any grace that could have been offered. You see, my darling Hermione, Alyssa was not a Pureblood. She was not even a Halfblood. Alyssa was Muggleborn, and was very proud of it. Since the Malfoy name fell from any true and respectable society, they have buried the parts of their past they believe to be tarnished, and unclean. They even burned her portrait. The last remaining remnant of such a great woman, burned, because _they_ couldn't stand the sight of her!" She inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, I should not speak this way, but you must know. You must know that we Malfoy's were, at one time, part of the light. Part of what Dumbledore has fought so hard to keep alive…and what our Dark Lord has fought so hard to destroy. We were not always so afraid to believe in good." Her hand touched Hermione's cheek. "Never forget Hermione, that while you are a part of this family, there is still some hope for my son. He has potential to be great, to be a warrior for light…for you." A tear slid down the elder woman's face, adding a sorrow to her words Hermione had not thought possible. She herself felt her shaky intake of breath, felt the tears threatening to fall. Narcissa breathed carefully, wiped away the tear. "Now, I believe it's time for me to go and greet our guests." She squeezed Hermione's shoulder once before moving to the door. Her hand paused over the handle. "You really do look lovely dear." And with a final mournful smile, she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.

Hermione found herself alone, her dress sparkling around her. She sat at her dressing table, staring at her reflection with revulsion. What was this creature of perfection staring back at her? _I hate you. _"I hate you!" She shoved away from the table, small bench falling to the ground. She moved to the window, threw it open, breathed in the cool evening air. Her heated flesh calmed as the breeze sent shivers down her spine. Closing her eyes she allowed herself one last dream, one last thought of the hope she'd once shared. This was not Malfoy Manor. She was not engaged to Draco Malfoy, and the Dark Lord was not going to be walking her down the isle at her wedding. Instead, she was giggling with Ginny in the Burrow, her dress fine and white, her hair tamed and loose. Ron and Harry waited outside, all the Order were there, their smiles and wishes of happiness echoing through her head. She was getting married **now**, to Ron, with all her friends there. With all her _family_. With everyone she loved. She felt herself smile at the thought, at the dream. She could get lost in that dream. _Oh Ron. I will always love you._ She opened her eyes and stared at the stars. It was now she wished she were one of them. It was now she could be as simple as a stone in a glassy pool in the Forbidden Forest. It was now she finally let the dream fade.

There was knock at the door.

* * *

The stairs seemed like a mountain as Draco moved up towards her room. As he reached the landing he realized he didn't want to have to bring her out of the solitude of her bedroom. He knew she felt safer there, in her private place. He knew she would rather stay in there than make rounds about the ballroom on his arm. He breathed deeply.

"Draco, you're just in time." It was his mother. "She's all ready. It should be time soon. Have all the guests gathered in the ballroom?" She was walking hurriedly down the corridor, her steps quick and light.

"Yes, they're all assembled. The Dark Lord has only just arrived. He's being shown into the ballroom as we speak. He'll be very pleased to see you." Draco nodded to his mother as she passed him, his own pace quickening as he thought. It was only minutes later when he reached Hermione's door. He raised his hand, poised to knock, when he heard something. "I hate you!" Then there was a crash; something had fallen to the floor. It took all his power not to burst through and demand to know what was happening. There was nothing. There was not a sound, not a whisper from beyond the door. He waited a minute before finally letting his knuckles rap lightly on the hard wood. It was another minute before the door actually opened. It took Draco a moment to recover from the sight of her beauty. "Are—" He cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes." Her own voice was a grace across his senses. She opened the door fully. He offered her his hand. She accepted delicately. "Thank you." As she moved out of her room, the door closed soundlessly behind her, and Draco was forced to move away from her. Taking her hand from his, he placed it in the crook of his arm, tucking it there and holding his hand over it for fear she might bolt at any moment. He needed her tonight just as she needed him.

They walked in silence, the heels of her shoes clicking against the marble as they moved. It seemed like ages before they finally reached the ballroom doors. Draco ceased their movement. He turned Hermione to face him. "Are you sure you're ready? Are you sure you want to face this?" He could see the tears behind her eyes. She nodded numbly.

"I have no choice. Whether I'm ready for it or not, Draco, I must walk through those doors with you and face whatever is to come." She finally looked him in the eye. "I don't need your pity Draco. I can do this alone. In this place, all I am is alone." She moved to turn from him, but his hands on her shoulders held her in place.

"Hermione." His voice was raw and cracked. "You are never alone." He tried to let that show in his gaze, but knew he failed. He knew there was nothing he could do in that room that would protect her. All he could do was lend her strength where she needed it. Whether she asked for it or not. Her hand touched his cheek softly and he found himself turning into that simple touch, that reverent caress. A pop beside them made both of them start.

"Master Draco! It's time!" The little House Elf was gone before they could blink.

Draco cast one last look at Hermione who had regained her icy composure. She stood beside him now, facing the doors, her hand still tucked in his arm, her strength unwavering. He swore he saw something hidden there, but he let the though drift as the doors slowly swung open. He turned to face whatever was coming, to face the room of Deatheaters and his Dark Lord. They stepped forward into the ballroom, Hermione's hand tightening on his arm, his own hand tightening over hers, as they moved on to face their destiny. Together.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_ Finally finished updating this one too...sorry about this! Hope you're all enjoying reading it! :D_

_-The Crimson Sheath_


	6. What Have You Done

It had been a year. One full year. Every day of that year had been tight, unwanted, over exposed. Every moment had been forced; it exceeded her limit and drew on her senses. She hated it. She hated every minute of it. The worst part was the raids. She could feel them tearing at her very being every time she uttered a curse, or took a life with her magic. She felt dirty, used, stripped.

At the moment, Hermione Jane Malfoy stood at her window, looking out over the grounds. She found it calming, staring out over the maze, the forest. Especially now with the summit meeting drawing close. It was to be a meeting hosted by the Dark Lord's right hand, and attended by Deatheaters and Order members alike. In the case of this particular summit, Malfoy Manor was going to be the neutral ground on which the two parties met. Draco would welcome the Order members into his home and they would discuss the terms of the new treaty. If no agreement could be made, then they would meet again and again until they finally felt that both sides had been treated fairly. Of course, as the Dark Lord's most trusted Deatheater, Draco was now trusted in seeing that everything fell into place according to the Dark Lord's plan. In cases such as this summit, that entailed doing everything in his power in order to obtain the highest ground against the Light. In cases such as these, Hermione made a point of not being in the room when the summit began. But that might prove more difficult than thought.

There was a knock at her door before Draco opened it slightly and peered in. "Hermione? Are you here?" His voice was very soft, delicate, and she somehow found it soothing her grating nerves.

"Yes, I'm by the window." She heard him open the door and move into the room, heard his footsteps fall lightly on the floor as he moved towards her. When he stood next to her and shared her view over the grounds of the Manor he spoke.

"Pansy and Blaise are here. They've come for dinner, I hope you don't mind—"

"Not at all. Shall I dress casually, or will it be a formal affair?" Her eyes never left the horizon that drew out before her.

"Formal, if you wouldn't mind. I believe they've invited a few people as well. Most of us will be discussing how best to deal with the summit next week. Quite frankly I don't know—"

"That's wonderful. If you'll excuse me, I have to get dressed." Turning away from the window, Hermione moved to her closet and stepped quietly in, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the door, breathing hard. She found it nearly unbearable to stand beside him, found she could hardly breathe when he was within reach. And now, with him just beyond the door, just beyond the threshold, was almost intolerable.

Pushing away from the door she moved to the row of dresses hanging on her right. Her hand drifted over the fabrics, feeling the silky smooth of each dress as she moved further into the closet. Her hand finally rested on a pale yellow gown of regency style. Pulling it from the rack, Hermione admired the flow of the skirt, how it fell softly, the chiffon folding delicately over her fingers. She pulled it off its hanger and unzipped the back. After laying it down on the duvet in the middle of the room, Hermione quietly undressed and slipped into the dress, settling it lightly around her. Pulling on a pair of cream yellow heels, she left her dressing room only to find she was not walking into an empty room.

"Oh, I though you'd left." He was seated at the foot of her bed, long legs stretched out before him, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were focused on his feet, but she knew that all his attention was intent on her every move. She turned from him. "Would you mind?" Glancing over her shoulder, Hermione saw him stand leisurely and move towards her. She felt his hands brush against her lower back, felt his breath puff lightly across her neck, and when the zipper was done, she felt his hands press gently against the back of her neck, his lips graze softly on her skin. She pulled away. "Thank you."

Hermione then busied herself at her dressing-table, applying a light powder, soft blush, and just the faintest hint of eye-shadow with her wand. She then reached for her jewelry box only to find it was already opened, her pearls missing. Before she could question where they were, she saw them pass before her eyes and settle around her neck. His hands were back on her skin, and it was more than she could bear. She stood. "I'll go welcome our guests. I'm sure they don't wish to be kept waiting." Without waiting for a reply, Hermione left her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. It wasn't until she'd reached the foot of the stairs that she could breathe again.

* * *

There was something boiling in him, and he felt that very soon it was going to overpower him. And there was nothing he could do about it. It was a strange feeling that rose in him now. Every time she entered the room he felt something warm implode within his body. Every time she left him standing alone he felt a devastating freeze sweep through his bones. It was this feeling that swept over him now. Even as he stared at his reflection in her mirror, he couldn't stop the ice from piercing his heart.

Draco Malfoy closed his eyes and tried to breathe. It was minutes before he could do so without strain. When he finally had regained a tense calm, he left her bedroom and moved to join Blaise and Pansy in the parlor. However, when he got there, he found himself utterly alone. He moved quickly through the halls into various rooms and found that Blaise and Pansy, let alone his wife, were nowhere to be seen. It was only when he found himself in his study did he hear the faintest sound of laughter emanating from the terrace. He smirked faintly to himself. He should have known.

As soon as he stepped out onto the terrace, he was bombarded by the dreadful sound that was Pansy's laughter. "Drakey! You'll never believe what Blaise just said! He said that you're going to be heading the meeting between the Deatheaters and those filthy Potter-followers! Is this true?" She looked up at him from her perch by her husband's chair. Hermione sat apart from the couple, her eyes gazing out over the grounds. He looked back to Pansy.

"Yes, Pansy, I'm heading the meeting. Now, please make yourselves comfortable in the parlor, I must have a word with Hermione." Placing his hand on Pansy's lower back, he guided her towards the main doors back into the house, Blaise following silently behind. When the doors had finally clicked shut behind them, Draco turned his attention to his wife. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione spoke first.

"What is there to talk about, Draco?" She wasn't looking at him. She was still staring out into the night. He breathed deep.

"The summit is drawing close. The entirety of the Order will be in attendance, along with the majority of the Deatheaters. _You_ are expected to be there, as a follower of the Dark Lord, and as my wife." He felt her tense. "You will be seated at my right side, Blaise shall be on my left, and the attending Deatheaters shall be seated according to rank. The meeting will take place in the ballroom where a large dining table shall be set to accommodate the large number of witches and wizards attending. Seeing as my mother shall not be in attendance, it is up to _you_ to see to the arrangements. Am I clear?" Something dropped into his gut, like tar and rocks. He waited for her answer. It didn't come. "Hermione, are you listening to me?" She finally turned to look him in the eye.

"I'm not your wife." The words cut deeper than he'd thought. "I may have married you, I may have sworn my allegiance to the Dark Lord, and I may have done everything that has been asked of me since I set foot in that godforsaken thrown-room, but if you think for one minute that any of that makes me your _wife_, then you are sorely mistaken." Her voice was steady, she never yelled or ranted at him, and he felt something dying inside. But if he knew her at all, he knew that the Hermione he once knew was somewhere locked away in this broken shell of a woman.

"That is exactly what I think!" He moved towards her, she sunk deeper into the chaise on which she reclined. "When you married me you swore an oath to me, and to the Dark Lord whom we both serve!" He moved closer, placed his hands on either side of her, she cringed and looked away. He exhaled, crumpling to a crouch before her. His arms followed, finding their resting place, hands wrapped gently around her wrists. It was at this exact moment that Draco Malfoy let go of something he'd been guarding for years. "I just want Hermione back." His forehead drooped and landed on her knees, eyes closing on tears he should never have shed.

There were hands in his now. He opened his eyes and let his head drift up. He saw her delicate hands entwined in his, holding them together, pulling him forward. As he raised his head, he saw her tears, saw her sorrow, saw everything he felt openly displayed in her eyes, eyes that were drawing ever nearer. And then her hands were on his face, delving into his hair, gripping the nape of his neck, pulling him ever closer.

"I never left." Her lips crashed with his, tongue and teeth fighting for control, fighting for release. His arms wound around her, drawing her up with him as he stood, pressed her supple body against his hard planes. She came to him willingly, her lips molding against his, arms entwining about his neck, pelvis grinding against his own. He moved his lips against hers, traveling down her jaw to nip lightly at her neck, inhaling her scent as he did so. Her lips pressed against his neck, her body calming in his arms. He felt her disappearing again.

"Don't." His arms tightened around her, the idea that if he could just hold her there, if he could somehow make her stay, implanted firmly in his head. Her hands moved through his hair to rest lightly on his shoulders as she began to pull away. He tried to hold on, tried to keep her there, with him, but it seemed within seconds that she was feet away, looking out over the grounds again.

"Pansy and Blaise are waiting for you. I'll join you in a moment." Her hands gripped her arms, her breath coming in long gasps. He moved behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, pressed his thumbs into her back. His lips brushed the nape of her neck, inhaling the smell of her perfume, her hair as he drew away.

"Don't be long." He left her there, and as the door clicked shut behind him, the thought of what he was going to have to do sank into his gut like iron, and the poison of his duty seeped through his blood, the finality of his decision weighing on a conscience long forgotten.

As Draco entered the parlor to meet with Blaise and Pansy, he saw the majority of Deatheaters that were to be attending the Summit had already arrived. Their eyes focused on him as he came in. "Welcome. If you'd please follow me into the dinning room, we have much to go over before the meeting next week." He gestured out into the hall and began to leave. A voice called him back.

"We've been talking, Draco." He turned on his heel. Blaise's eyes pierced his own. "There has been some question as to the loyalties of your wife." Draco could just barely detect the devious smile hidden in Blaise's words.

"How ever do you mean?" Draco turned to face the collective group and met each of their eyes. "What concern is it of yours to question the loyalties of my wife?" He felt his voice raising as his temper flared. "By questioning the loyalties of my wife, you question the loyalty and obedience of this very household, this family! Now, I have said this before to you, Blaise, and now I say it to you all; the Dark Lord deemed her worthy of his mark, deemed her worthy of this family's name and power, and if anyone dares challenge His word or His law, then I shall call him here immediately!" The group flinched away from him, their eyes darting from one another and back. "My wife is as loyal to the Dark Lord as I am, and you will treat her with the respect her title deserves!" He tried to breathe, tried to calm is inner fire. "This all being said, I believe it is time we discuss the matters at hand. A meal has been prepared and awaits us in the dinning room." He left the parlor without waiting another second.

As he turned the corner and down the hall to the dinning room, he saw her. She was just coming in from the terrace, closing the door quietly behind her. The top of her Mark flashed darkly above her dress. "Hermione, you're just in time. Please come join us." He held out his hand and she gracefully fell into step beside him. They moved into the dinning room and waited for the others to file in. When everyone was assembled, they took their seats and the meeting began.

* * *

The night was warm, which was odd considering it was December. It was only a few hours before the Summit and Hermione was busy seeing that all the arrangements had been seen to. Everything was in order, and Deatheaters were beginning to arrive. Draco was greeting them all in the foyer, shaking hands, welcoming them, and telling them where their room for the evening was. None of the Order had yet arrived. Hermione was growing anxious.

Having checked the arrangements in the ballroom, she moved to join her husband at the entrance to welcome their guests. Just as she stepped into the foyer, she heard a voice she had not heard in over a year. "Well Ferret, how _nice_ of you to offer your home as a meeting place. I hope you know we're not going anywhere in this place without our wands, not even for the Summit. It's bad enough being here with you, I'd much rather not dwell on the amount of Deatheaters that are no doubt already here."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She stepped out of the room and listened quietly by the door. Draco spoke. "Weasley, it's good to see you again. Potter, it's been a while. I see you brought the wife-"

"I am a member of the Order, Malfoy. Besides, I'm here to make sure my brother doesn't get himself into trouble. Now, where are our rooms?" Hermione had to catch herself from crying out. She waited for Harry to speak; only it was Draco who picked up the silence.

"Your room is just up the right hand stairs and to the left. It's the first door; it has your name on it. Weasley's is next to yours. The Summit will begin in just over two hours. Please, make yourselves at home and relax before we meet again."

"Thank you, Malfoy. That's very kind of you." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Harry was here. "Actually, I was wondering if I could have a private word with you after the Summit. Would that be manageable?"

"Of course, Potter. We'll meet in my study this evening, or would tomorrow morning be better for you?"

"After the meeting is fine." There was silence followed by footsteps. "Fred, George, good you're here." Hermione moved away from the door and through the halls to the small staircase at the back of the Manor. It was dark and dusty from lack of use.

"Lumos." Her wandtip glowed softly as she made her way up the stairs. When she reached the top, she made a beeline through the halls towards her room. It was only after she'd entered her room, closed the door behind her, and sank to the floor against it that she let her tears finally overwhelm her. They poured out in uncontrollable sobs that wracked her body until she no longer had the strength to cry anymore. She breathed softly for what seemed like minutes before she finally stood and moved to her closet to get ready. As she reached her closet door, a voice from behind made her freeze.

"You know, the way you have him wrapped around your finger amazes even me, Hermione." The voice was cold and manipulative. Hermione turned slowly to face it.

"Blaise…"

"I've always found his fascination with you borderline disturbing, but this new development of his loyalty to you goes beyond." He stood and stalked towards her, his voice penetrating her senses as he moved. "I wonder just how far you're willing to take this charade before your actions cost him more than his loyalties." Hermione tried to breathe, but his next words chilled her to the bone. "I wonder how he would respond to your tears of deception, the ones you so desperately try to hide from everyone around you." He smiled, flashing pure white teeth, before spinning away and closing the door softly behind him.

Hermione closed her eyes, fingering the ring on her finger, and waited for her heart to calm. When it finally had, she went into her closet and proceeded to get ready. However, when she returned to her bedroom, she was enveloped in a bright green glow emanating from the fireplace and suddenly, she was not alone.

* * *

It was time. Draco had never been so nervous before in his life. He was standing outside Hermione's door, hands pressing over his dressrobes again and again out of habit. Finally her door opened and he was thrown back to that first night, the night this all began. She wore a long black gown, and as she turned to close the door, her Mark swirled with life against her flesh. The low back of her garment allowed for perfect view of her Mark, the dark life burning within it crawling into his body and settling there with a cold fire that blazed against his bones. He swallowed, offered her his hand.

"Is everything prepared?" His voice was cold.

"Yes, the ballroom has been arranged, and each room has been prepared for their respective guests. I think you'll be quite impressed with the decoration of the ballroom." A hint of a smile played at her lips before disappearing before his eyes. He stopped in their movement towards the grand staircase. She turned back to him. "Are you alright?" He stared into her eyes. Something churned beneath the surface, dancing darkly behind the innocence of her eyes. He moved closer. Even as she stared up at him, her eyes glinted, their color swirling green within their natural golden hazel. She blinked and it was gone. "Are you alright?" He snapped back.

"Yes. I'm sorry, we should join our guests." He resumed walking, Hermione falling into step beside him. They descended the stairs and into the foyer before turning into the hall that led to the ballroom. As they approached the doors, a house elf apparated before them.

"Master Draco, all the guests have been seated, their wands held in this cabinet here." The house elf motioned toward the cabinet by the door, which indeed held twelve wands. Draco recognized Blaise's and Pansy's immediately. No doubt Hermione could tell Potter's and the Weasley's within an instant. "I shall announce you." The little elf apparated into the ballroom and his voice suddenly boomed through the house. "Lord and Lady Malfoy." The doors opened.

* * *

For some reason, as soon as her hand had slipped into Draco's, she'd been calm. She knew what she was going to have to do, but now it just didn't seem to matter. Even as they moved closer and closer to the ballroom, even as she saw Harry's wand, Ron's wand, even as his hand gripped her tighter and the doors swung inward, presenting them to both Deatheaters and Order members alike. They stepped inside. Her face became a mask of indifference.

"HERMIONE!" She didn't flinch, her eyes didn't dart to look at him, she just kept moving with Draco to their assigned seats. They had to move around the table, and when they reached their seats, Draco pulled her chair out for her before seating himself. When they had been seated, the Deatheaters all took their seats as they had been instructed. Pansy sat beside her, Blaise beside Draco, and Crabbe and Goyle beyond. Unfortunately Fenrir Greyback sat beside Millicent Bulstrode who was on the other side of Pansy. Just being this close to him made Hermione's stomach cringe. Draco spoke to the Order members still standing.

"Please be seated, there is much to discuss." They Order members sat grudgingly. Hermione folded her hands in her lap, spinning the ring on her finger round and round. She looked to her husband and waited. It was going to be long evening.

* * *

Draco knew that as soon as the Weasley saw Hermione he would lose it, knew that as soon as Hermione didn't acknowledge him he would break. It was apparent in the way he slumped into his chair next to Potter and stared down at his hands. Draco chanced a glance at Hermione and found her looking at him, her eyes full of…something…he couldn't quite place it. He breathed deep before speaking. "So, I know that we all have issues with one another, and that we'd all like nothing more than to throw this Summit out and fight right here and now, but that's not what we're here for." He stared pointedly at Greyback before continuing. He met the eyes of each Order member as he spoke. "It has been one year since the treaty was signed by both Harry Potter and our Dark Lord. We meet here tonight to revisit the treaty and all that it entails. Mr. Potter, if you would please speak on behalf of The Order and what you wish to see become of his meeting." He placed his hands on the arms of his chair and looked at Potter. Something touched his hand and stayed there. Glancing down he found it to be his wife's hand, her wedding ring sparkling in the candlelight. Potter spoke.

"I have to say that I agree with you, Malfoy. We would like nothing better than to kill you all right now, but I know that we have a higher purpose to attend to." He glared at Weasley before going on. "This treaty has allowed both sides to tend to old wounds," he paused and looked at Hermione, "and new ones. But it has also giving us all chances to repair and to replenish what was once lost." His eyes moved over the Deatheaters. Draco turned his hand into Hermione's, thumb rubbing over her knuckles as he listened. "This evening was designed to allows both sides to come to a new agreement that will last for the next year." He reached into his robes and withdrew a parchment. "This is an informal treaty which we have drawn up in preparation for this evening. I know that it is very rough and will probably be less than agreeable with the majority of Deatheaters here, but never the less, I thought it a good way to break the ice and get everyone's thoughts out on the table." He passed the parchment across the table to Draco and he took it with his left hand, giving it to Blaise to open and look over.

"Thank you Potter. I know that Blaise will take everything in and we can go from there. Now—"

"Oh can we just cut the bullshit!" Weasley's voice echoed in the room. Draco's eyes snapped to him and glared. His anger flared. "This is all bullshit! You two act like you've been friends forever! I know for a fact that the two of you would like nothing better than to tear each other's throats out right now! Hell, I'd probably join in, but this has to stop! I can't believe you!" He glared at his friend. "How can you even talk to this Ferret with even the smallest amount of respect? This is ridiculous!"

"Ron, please. This has nothing to do with how we feel about each other." Potter was trying to calm Weasley, but it obviously wasn't working.

"Bloody hell it doesn't! Do you see who's here? Are you blind as well as stupid?" Draco felt Hermione's hand stiffen in his. "Look at her!" Draco continued to glare at Weasley and wished with all he had that something very heavy would fall on his head any moment. "I mean **LOOK AT HER!** Do you see the way she's acting?" He was standing now, his hands gesturing at Hermione, his face burning with anger. Draco had had enough.

"Weasel!" Weasley froze and stared at Draco. "You will think about what you say before speaking that way about my wife again."

"**WIFE?"**

**

* * *

**

Hermione wanted very much to melt into her chair and disappear. She could feel her grip tightening around Draco's hand, could feel her eyes finding anywhere to look but at Ron. And then Draco was speaking.

"Yes, my wife." His hand constricted around hers. "And you will treat her with the respect she deserves." She felt her body relax.

"She deserves no respect! She married you!" Hermione looked up at Ron then. He was standing, he was angry, he was screaming. His blue eyes pierced hers. "How could you! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" His hands came down on the table, the silverware and china clattering as he did. And then she saw the tears. "What have you done?" Draco's hand gripped hers tighter still. She breathed deep and stood, releasing Draco's hand as she did so. When she spoke her voice was stronger than it'd ever been before.

"I have done as my Lord as commanded." She stared him down, and when he finally sat, defeated in his chair, she turned away and pressed her lips firmly against the flesh of his neck, her hand placed over his chest, before she turned away, Dark Mark swirling with power, and left the ballroom.

Hermione found herself moving through the Manor, no destination in mind, when she found herself standing before a door she'd never seen before. Without really thinking, she turned the handle and stepped inside. She found herself in another suite of rooms, obviously a bedroom suite, and it wasn't until she saw the wand on the table that she knew where she was. She almost smiled softly at her ignorance. She should have known, by the décor alone if nothing else. The walls were a deep forest green, the hard wood floor stained black. It was like walking into a library. Each wall was lined with shelves, a green leather sofa positioned before the fireplace, small coffee-table between them covered with a variety of books and journals, all of different sizes. Out of curiosity she picked up one of the journals, feeling the weight of it as she sat. It was different from the other books and journals scattered around the room. The binding was leather, that was where the similarity ended, and the coloring was that of Slytherin, which shouldn't have surprised her. He always was proud of his House. It was tied with a leather strap around the middle, the greens and silvers swirling through the dark black of the binding. She knew she shouldn't open it, knew she shouldn't invade his privacy the way she was, but she couldn't help herself. There was something inside compelling her to open the journal, to read his deepest secrets and keep them for herself. However, when she let the tied strap loose and turned the cover, she was shocked to see her own face staring back at her. It was an image of herself she hadn't seen, or even felt, in years. The Hermione in the journal was smiling, laughing, her hair smooth around her face, her eyes alight with joy. It brought tears to Hermione's eyes.

The sketch was beautiful, far more beautiful than Hermione saw herself. She turned the page and found another sketch. It was a position she was quite familiar with. The Hermione on the page was standing on a balcony, staring out over a forest. Turning page after page after page, she saw herself depicted a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. Each drawing was uniquely opposite from the next. In some she was happy, in others she found herself crying. In one she was sleeping peacefully on the same chaise she frequently found herself out on the terrace. Each drawing was perfect, each stroke deliberate and confident. She closed the book abruptly, pressing it harshly back onto the table. Inhaling deeply to stop the tears, she stood and moved around the room once more.

In a few moments, she found herself moving through open double doors at the other end of the room, and when she took in her surroundings, she noticed that the room in which she now stood was her husband's bedroom. It was a strange feeling that pooled within her now. She felt warm, she felt different than ever before. And that feeling only multiplied at the sight of a framed sketch on the wall beside his bed. It was an angle one would not normally choose for a portrait, the viewer could only see just over her shoulder and catch barely a glimpse of her face past her jaw-line and cheekbone. Her chin rested on her hand, her hair pulled up softly, revealing her back. Hermione breathed sharply. Her back was untouched, unmarred by the Mark she hated so. Her breath caught in her throat, her hand gripping the bedpost, the tears refusing to be withheld. It wasn't long before she found herself seated on the bench at the foot of the bed, arm wrapped around her middle, tears overflowing from the deepest place in her being. And when the tears had finally subsided, she stood, moved from the bedroom and out of the suite, following her feet to her own bedroom where she silently slipped into her own bed and fell into restless sleep.

* * *

It was hard for Draco not to jump out of his seat and follow her. It was hard for Draco not to turn into her lips and kiss her before the gathered assembly. It was hard for Draco to stare at Weasley and keep his burning anger from boiling over. It was hard for Draco to even speak. So Potter did.

"Why don't we adjourn for the evening and return in the morning? I know there are few things I would like to discuss in private before we continue." He glanced at Draco and he nodded.

"I agree." He voice was stronger than he'd thought. "Let us reconvene tomorrow morning at 11:00 o'clock. Agreed?" There was a soft murmur around him. He nodded again. "Good. Until tomorrow then." He stood, and the Deatheaters followed suit. Most of them were out the door, grabbing for their wands before going directly to their rooms. Pansy lingered a moment before leaving, Blaise didn't move a muscle. Draco looked pointedly at him. "Goodnight Blaise. Your wife is waiting for you." Blaise glared at him before nodding once and turning on his heel, boots sounding on the marble floor as he left. Draco looked back at Potter. Weasley spoke.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" His face was still red, his body tense with anger. His question was directed at Potter, but Draco answered.

"Members from both sides have come together to reach an agreement on the renewal of the treaty signed one year ago by both the Dark Lord and Harry Potter, leader of the Forces of the Light. Does that answer your question?" Draco placed his hands firmly on the table, leaning forward, pressing his intention even further. Potter spoke again.

"Ron, why don't you and the other Order members go into the parlor in the front of the Manor, I'll be there shortly." Weasley looked as if he was about to protest, but Potter's firm glare silenced him. Draco watched silently as the Order silently left the ballroom and moved to the parlor. Potter collapsed into his chair.

"Don't tell me you're giving up!" Draco's voice boomed through the large room. The Boy Who Wouldn't Die glared up at him over the rim of his glasses.

"I don't think there's much hope now, Draco. You never told me about you and Hermione." There was betrayal in his eyes. Draco flinched.

"It didn't seem important at the time. It was before we were married. I didn't know what the Dark Lord's plan was for her then, I still don't know." He sunk into his own chair. "She's different, Potter. She's been different since he Marked her."

"I noticed you failed to mention that as well." There was anger in his voice now. "Do you know what Ron has had to go through with her gone? We thought she was dead!" He shook his head. "I guess being dead was better than knowing what she had become."

"You don't have to live with it, Potter. I see her every day, I've watched her descent into defeat."

"And you didn't think it prudent to inform me? It would have been nice to know that your **wife**, my best friend, was a Deatheater! You don't know what it's been like without her."

"Yes I do." Draco felt the sorrow that bled through his voice. He felt Potter's eyes on him, felt the confusion that thickened the air. "I know exactly what it's like without her." He breathed, closing his eyes before continuing. "You saw what happened tonight." Potter nodded. "Does that look like the Hermione we knew?" He sighed and shook his head.

"No, you're right. She isn't the same. It's like she's become a completely different person. But then there are these moments," he smiled at the memory, "there are these perfect moments, Harry, perfect moments where it's like she's there, right there with me, and then she's gone again. I just don't know what to do." He rested his head in his hand, breath exhaling out as he deflated, defeated.

"You're in love with her." Draco's head snapped up.

"No!" He couldn't love her.

"You love her, Draco, and it's killing you."

"No. I can't love her." He shook his head.

"That doesn't mean you don't."

"It has to! If I love her it means that she'll never be free of this life! It means that I have the greatest weakness of them all!" He was screaming now, and he didn't care. "I can't love her, Potter! I can't! I won't!" He was pacing now, he didn't remember standing, didn't remember his heart pounding, didn't remember how he'd gotten so lost.

"Draco, stop." He froze in his tracks and stared Harry. "You have to accept the fact that you love her, that you're _in_ love with her, or you'll really lose her. I saw her tonight, I saw what she's become Draco! You're the only one that can save her!" Draco ran a hand through his hair.

"You remember that night?" Harry nodded. "I bet you'd thought you were dreaming." He chuckled softly. "I never thought I'd end up on your doorstep. Hell, I never thought I'd actually find the place."

"I thought I was seeing things." Harry smiled softly at the memory…

* * *

_It was raining, he could tell that much from the hard patter of the droplets as they hammered against his bedroom window. His arm moved tighter around his wife, pulling her in close before closing his eyes to try and get some sleep. It was then that he heard it. It was so faint he was surprised it didn't go unnoticed. He heard it again; it was some kind of movement, some kind of disruption from downstairs. Disentangling himself as soundlessly as possible, Harry stepped out of bed and drew on his robe, grabbing his wand before moving out his room and down the stairs._

_ His footsteps were light as he descended towards the kitchen. There was no light in the halls of Grimmauld Place, but something was flickering from just beyond the door. He moved silently, wand raised every so slightly, poised for anything. His scar twitched beneath his skin. He'd reached the door._

_ As he peered around the corner, he saw something…no, some__**one**__. It was almost impossible for anyone to be at Grimmauld Place now. The place was so hard to find that even Fred and George had gotten lost looking for it once or twice. This person was seated at the table, they were wearing a black cloak, the hood shaded the person's face. Harry inched cautiously into the room. Before he could speak, a voice he knew all too well echoed around him._

_ "You know, I had the hardest time finding this place." The drawling voice made Harry's bones itch. "Is that any way to treat a house-guest?" He drew back his hood and Harry almost jumped. The hair might have been a bit longer, the facial lines longer, but there could be no mistake. The man before him was Draco Malfoy._

_ "What the hell are you doing in my house?" Now is scar was burning._

_ "Well, I was just in the neighborhood, thought I'd come by for a chat." The Ferret actually had the gall to smirk at him! "No, actually, I'm here because there are few things you and I need to discuss." He reached into his cloak, Harry raised his wand higher. "No need to fuss, I'm just pulling my wand out." His fingers were barely touching the wand as he drew it from inside his robes. "See, just putting it on the table." He set it on the table before unclasping his cloak and letting it slide down around the chair. "Besides, it's not like I would fight you if you wanted to kill me anyway." Harry stared at him, disbelieving. "Oh, I'm not going to bite!"_

_ Harry moved into the room, inch by inch, and when he was finally at the edge of the table, he sat gingerly in the chair opposite Malfoy. "What are you doing here?"_

_ "Ah, yes, well, that is a question that will come later. For now, all you need to know is that I'm sorry." Harry blanched._

_ "You're sorry! You show up in my house in the middle of the night and all you have to say for yourself is, 'you're sorry!' I'm sorry Malfoy, but that's just not going to cut it!" Harry exhaled deeply before setting his own wand down on the table and rubbing his forehead. "Okay, let say for arguments sake that you don't have an ulterior motive for being here and that you actually just want to—hang on a minute…how'd you get in here?" He looked around suspiciously, searching for a hidden door of some kind._

_ "I walked in through the front door." Malfoy pointed behind him with his thumb before placing his hand on his knee. "Look, I don't know exactly how I got here, and it's going to take me forever to find a safe place to apparate home from here, so let's just get this over with."_

_ "Get what over with? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE!" Harry sighed. "I'm not going to listen to you if you're going to speak in riddles all night." He stood to leave. "You can show yourself out, and I'll just remember this as the weird dream I had last night where Draco Malfoy stepped into my kitchen and decided he was all warm and fuzzy inside." He turned to leave, but Malfoy's next words made him freeze._

_ "She's alive." There was a pause. "She's alive, and she's staying at the Manor, and there's nothing you can do that will save her unless you listen to what I have to say, right now." The severity in Malfoy's voice made Harry turn back._

_ "Hermione's alive?"_

_ "You can't tell anyone, not even you're precious little Weaslette wife, and especially not the Weasel." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Malfoy stopped him. "I don't care about what you think, but you have to listen to me. I know you hate me, and I know you'd like nothing better than to toss me in Azkaban…what's left of it anyway…and throw away the key. But right now, you're going to have to listen to me, and you're going to have to try to understand what I'm going to tell you. If you can't at least try, then I'll leave knowing that I at least told you about Hermione, and that you might try to cook up some ridiculous plan to save her. However, if you do that, and you get caught, I was never here." He looked Harry in the eye. Harry nodded._

_ "I'll listen, but you have to be honest with me. I'm not going to help you with anything unless you're completely honest. No Slytherin pranks, no old House rivalry, just two men talking about someone they both care about. Deal?" Harry stuck out his hand. There was not hesitation before he felt Malfoy's hand grip his own hard._

_ "Deal."_

_

* * *

_

"You know, I didn't think we were going to have to push it up this far." Harry's voice was clear now, as neutral as Draco's.

"I know, but we don't have a choice. She's fading faster now more than ever, and I can't lose her. Not like this." Draco closed his eyes before trying to breathe normally. "Look, why don't we carry this conversation out at another time. You have Order Members to talk to, and I have…other duties." He knew his voice was faltering, but he didn't care.

"Right." Harry stood. "Until tomorrow then." He nodded once at Draco before turning on his heel and leaving. Draco almost bolted out the opposite door and up to his room. The door was open when he got there. He pushed it wide and stepped inside. His books had been moved, his journals adjusted. The door to his bedroom was ajar. He felt a tingling sensation in his spine. He slowly stripped and stepped into his shower, relishing in the feeling of the boiling water against his skin. After he'd washed and slipped into his silk pajama pants, he found himself pacing through his suite. He couldn't keep still. Finally he couldn't take it anymore and he lashed out at a rather unsuspecting portrait of a lady in white resting peacefully on a chaise in the middle of a forest. However, instead of the portrait being flung across the room, as Draco so desired it to be, it merely swung open gently to reveal a rippling doorway into another room. One he recognized immediately, and just as quickly stormed into to find himself bathed in darkness and moonlight.

* * *

Hermione woke to the sound of someone moving in her room. She slowly reached for her wand and turned silently to get out of bed. As she stood, drawing the curtain from around her bed, she found herself face to face with an intoxicating sight. Before her stood a half naked Draco Malfoy, in all his glory, staring at her as if he were dying, longing, to just touch her once and flee from sight. Before she knew what she was doing, her wand dropped to the floor and Hermione found herself across the room, hands wound through his hair, dragging his lips to her own, branding him with her kiss. And then his hand were gripping her arms, pushing her away, tearing his lips from hers. His eyes gazes into hers, piercing into her as she waited. She found her hands moving over his face, tracing his features, roving over his shoulders, stopping only when he spoke.

"Don't." She looked up at him to find his eyes closed, his face hard. She pulled away, moved to leave him, but his grip on her stopped her. She looked back, found his eyes and held them, waiting. "Don't…unless you don't want me to stop."


	7. Outcast

It was quiet as Blaise walked the halls in Malfoy Manor. His wife had drifted into a satiated sleep, the other Deatheaters were dosing with one eye open, and the Order Members were gathered in the parlor…conversing. It was all very peaceful. Well, as peaceful as it could be with mortal enemies sharing the same roof.

As he patrolled the halls, searching for anyone, or any**thing** out of place, he came across Draco's room. The door was ajar. _Well that's not right._ Blaise glanced around the hall before pushing into the room, closing the door firmly behind. Frankly he wasn't surprised at the décor of the room, but what did shock him was the absolute disarray it was in. There were books strewn everywhere, broken glass on the floor, and a general disorganization that was utterly foreign to Blaise, not to mention Draco. Even as Blaise moved through the room and into the bedroom silently, he could feel that something was different…something was off. And then he found it. The bed was empty. "Draco?" No answer. And then he saw the sketch. "Oh Draco." He chuckled darkly as he ran his fingers over the delicate lines of Hermione's back on the paper. "Oh my poor, poor Draco."

He left then, feeling no real point in staying. There was something still, something lurking, that he knew he hadn't seen the last of. Everything was in motion now, the time right, the moments ticking by, allowing him the time to sit and wait. Allowing him the precious little time he had to use what he knew, and let it lead him to the end. It was time to act. He walked the long halls back towards his room, slipped into his bed beside his unsuspecting wife, and drifted into sleep.

* * *

Before Draco truly comprehended what he was doing, his hands were gripping her arms, fingers biting into flesh. "Don't." She froze, and suddenly he regretted speaking at all. She was pulling away, leaving him…just as she always did. He dug his fingers deeper. She gazed up at him, her eyes pleading, wanting. "Don't…unless you don't want me to stop."

He felt fire then. He felt the raging, penetrating, surging inferno consume him as her hands raised once more to grace his flesh. They traced tantalizing patterns over his shoulders, fingers drifting across his collarbone, eyes alight with her own flame, holding his as he slowly slipped into madness. "Hermione…" He felt her name ghost across his lips, passing slowly in the ever-shrinking space between them. And then there was no space. He body pressed firmly against his own, soft curves driving into his rigid form. She blinked once, lashes sweeping her cheeks before dazzling him with the beauty of her eyes once more, and he was lost.

His arms wrapped around her, lips crashing dangerously with hers, demanding acceptance. His hand delved into her hair, pulling her lips harder against his own, his arm wrapped securely around her waist, crushing her small form into his body, willing her to become a part of him.

Hermione's hands moved over his arms, finally coming to rest about his neck, fingers tunneling into his hair, refusing to give ground. He relished in her touch, lived for the fire that left where their skin touched. She moaned into his mouth and he lost control. His hands moved to her waist, gripping her hips and driving her upwards, propelling her against him. Her legs opened easily, wrapping tightly about his waist, locking herself about him. He was moving now, and he found his knees knocking against something hard. It was only a fraction of a second before he realized that it was the bed, and then they were falling on it. She landed softly against the disgruntled covers, her hair splaying out around her head as their lips broke and he was allowed a moment just to gaze at her. He brought himself up on his knees, eyes never leaving hers as she lay before him. His hand moved over her leg and down her calf, lifting it at the ankle and drawing it up. Pressing his lips against her anklebone, he trailed kisses up her calf, around her knee, lifting her nightgown as his lips traveled further upwards. They dances at the line of her panties, skipping over her bellybutton as she raised her hips to allow his conquest to travel onwards.

Her nightgown now fully raised to her shoulders, he permitted his lips to each swollen breast, finally pushing the nightgown over her head and tossing it away as he at least reached her lips. Now skin on skin, her arms came around him again, hands splaying, fingers digging, across his back as their lips met in tandem, in battle, each fighting for the higher ground.

Draco didn't know when his sleeping pants were lost, didn't know when her panties lay scattered on the floor, didn't know when he'd ended up beneath her, locked under her grinding hips, slave to her every movement as her teeth bit into his lower lip and her nails gnawed into his shoulders. All he knew was that with every moment that passed between them, every singular second that allowed them to be one, he felt more desire, more anticipation, more love than he'd ever thought possible. And when they finally were still, breath intermingling as she lay spent above him, he ran his fingers across her back before pressing his lips against her shoulder, her neck, her cheek, and finally her lips. It was languid and smooth. He relished in the feeling of having all the time in the world, lived for the feeling of her flesh against his own. She was languorous in his arms, her body bending gently as he rolled, her arm resting around his shoulders as he placed his head on her chest, breathing in the sound of her heartbeat.

"Draco…" He lifted his head and stared down at her. Her hand touched his cheek. "I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry." She pulled his lips down to hers, and suddenly the world disappeared again. There was an urgency now that wasn't there before. Her hands clawed at his shoulders as he knelt on the bed, her legs enclosed tightly around him. Her hips ground against his own, his arms wrapped around her, hands delving into her hair, lips crashing in a battle of teeth and tongue. There were no soft pauses, no languid moments. Now they clung to each other, desperation vibrating deep inside them. Pushing her down into the bed, Draco pinned her arms above her, lips leaving hers and devouring the soft flesh of her neck, all the while moving within her. She groaned deep in her throat, body pulsating beneath him as they rose together, their fight for dominance intensifying with every moment. His lips captured hers once more hands releasing hers to grip her hips and pull her harder against him. Her hand crept over his shoulder, nails raking over his skin, fingers gripping his neck, crushing his lips against hers. Their battle took no prisoners, left no one alive, and set a fire raging beneath their flesh, consuming them with flame. It wasn't long before they had lost themselves to their fire, and now spent, they lay entangled in each other, in the sheets, simply breathing. Hermione lay languidly beside him, her eyes piercing his as he trailed his fingers down her back. It was then that Draco Malfoy realized that now, in this moment, he was the happiest he was ever going to be. And it would never happen again.

* * *

Hermione watched Draco as he stared at his hand traveling the planes of her back. Suddenly he looked tired, worried. She moved closer, wrapping herself around him, entwining her legs with his as she draped her arm across his chest, kissing delicately over his shoulder and neck. At first he was frozen, his body rigid beneath hers. But then, slowly, his arm surrounded her and pulled her against him. She looked up at him, stared at the lines of worry etched around his eyes. She touched his face. "Sleep." He looked down at her, his silver eyes tinged with unhidden sadness. "Go to sleep." She kissed him then, her lips softly gracing his before trailing a path down his jaw and over his collarbone. "Sleep." Her voice was barely a whisper, but in moments his eyes slid closed, his breathing slowed, and he slipped into sleep. She watched him, waiting for his body to calm. Touching his cheek once more, Hermione finally rested her head on his chest and drifted herself into peaceful sleep.

* * *

It was before dawn that she woke. She slipped out of bed and moved to the window. A voice stopped her. "Are you alright?" She turned back to the bed.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep." He stood and joined her.

"Are you worried?" She nodded. He wrapped his arms around her. "You don't need to be, Hermione's going to be fine. Trust me." He kissed her temple, hugging her closer.

"You don't know that Harry!" Ginny pulled away from him and began to pace. "I know you trust her, and I know you believe that she's been fighting this whole time, and I want to believe that too, its just that sometimes I can't help but wonder if we've lost her. I can't help but think that somehow she's changed, and we'll never get her back. And that scares me!"

"Ginny, you have to calm down. It's going to be all right! We're going to get her back!" Harry stopped her pacing and gripped her shoulders. "Right now she couldn't be safer. I don't think there's any place that better for her than where she is right now. Please, just trust me."

"How can you say that?" She tore away from him. "How can you say that being _here_, in this _prison_, as a **Deatheater**, Hermione is safe?" She was screaming now. "I don't know what you're thinking, Harry Potter, but I don't like it. Did you see her? Have you lost your mind? She's one of them, Harry! She doesn't care for us anymore." She slumped into a chair by the window and rested her chin in her hand. Harry moved to join her.

"Look, I know you don't want to believe it, and I know you don't understand, but there are things going on here that are going to help us get her back. We haven't lost her forever." He took her hand as he knelt before her. She looked at him with sad eyes. "Trust me."

There was a loud band as their door burst open. "What's going on in here?" Harry and Ginny both jumped at Ron's booming voice. They both smiled at his flustered state.

"Good morning Ron." Harry stood and walked to him. "You don't have a thing to worry about, mate. Ginny and I were just arguing. Nothing strange about that." He smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Right." He laughed nervously as he stared around the room. He glared back at harry accusingly. "You're room is bigger than mine." Harry looked at Ginny and before they could stop themselves they burst into laughter, and infectious as it was, eventually Ron was laughing as well.

"I wouldn't think too much on it, Ron." He glanced at the clock. "The Summit is going to reconvene in a few hours. Why don't we get dressed and meet in the main parlor downstairs?" Ginny nodded followed slowly by Ron. "Good. Maybe we can finish this today." He smiled woefully as he moved towards his trunk.

"Right, I'll see you in a while." Ron left quietly, letting the door close silently behind him. Ginny moved into their lavatory and began to get ready. Harry braced his hands on the trunk's edge as he thought. _This is going to take a while._

* * *

Draco woke and opened his eyes slowly. There was an unfamiliar weight on his chest, not to mention the fact that he was not in his own bedroom. He started to move and the body draped across him tightened its arms and spoke. "Don't leave yet." He knew that voice. "I don't want you to leave." He turned onto his side, turning into her embrace. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted as she breathed, in and out. He traced her cheek with his fingers, pressed his lips to hers, refusing to relinquish this moment.

"How could I ever leave you?" She opened her eyes then, staring up into his. Flesh against flesh, they lay there, staring at one another. Draco didn't know how long they lay there, together, but then the loud crack of apparation snapped him back to reality.

"Master Draco, both parties have reconvened in the ballroom and are awaiting you. Shall I have tea and scones prepared?" The small house elf spoke so softly at first he thought he hadn't heard her at all.

"Yes, tea and scones for our guests. Please inform them that Lord and Lady Malfoy will join them shortly." He never stopped staring at her as he spoke.

"Yes, Master." There was another loud crack and she was gone. Draco watched as the fire died in Hermione's eyes.

"Don't." He gripped the nape of her neck, pulling her in, locking his eyes with hers. "Don't shut me out. Don't close yourself off from me again." Her eyes slid shut and tears began to form. He felt his voice choking. "Look at me, please, just look at me." He moved in then, cupping her face in his hands, drawing her to him. "Please, look at me." She opened her eyes, lips parting in a strained sigh. What he saw in her eyes scared him. Her vulnerability, her tenderness, and fragility all were blatantly displayed before him. He kissed her then, harsh and bruising, teeth biting into her lip as she welcomed him, yielding to his strength. Wrapping her in his arms, he drew her against him, waiting for her to calm. Her arms encircled him, and then the tears came. She cried silently against his chest, her tears sliding down her cheeks and onto his skin. He didn't know how long she cried, he didn't know when he started to cry, but when she had finally quieted, he felt her lips press against his chest, felt them moved up his neck until they met his own. This kiss was gentle and warm, and suddenly the world didn't matter.

Moments later Hermione pulled away from him and left the bed. She pulled on her robe before moving to her closet. Draco lay sprawled on her bed, and watched as she went about getting ready. He watched as she moved from lavatory to closet, disappearing into the lavatory to bathe, then into the closet to dress, finally to the dressing table to do her hair and make-up. He found himself fascinated by her simple morning routine, and when she sat at her dressing table, brush poised above her cheek, he found himself standing, wrapping himself in the sheet, and moving to stand behind her. She looked up at him through the mirror, and breathed deeply. He bent quietly, picking up the jewelry she had lain out and bringing it up around her neck, fastening it gently. She cleared her throat softly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He kissed her neck, her shoulder, fingers trailing over he top of her Mark. She shuddered at the touch, her flesh tingling at his touch. "You look beautiful." He watched her smile nervously before moving away and into her lavatory. "You don't mind, do you?" He smirked at her as she shook her head and went in for a shower.

* * *

As the door closed behind him, Hermione breathed out heavily. She stood and paced at the foot of her bed. She found her nightgown there, carelessly tossed to the ground. Close to it were was could only have been Draco's pants. She picked both up and laid them on the bed. It was then that the door to her lavatory opened and Draco sauntered out in a towel. Water dripped from his hair and beaded over his chest and arms. She felt her breath leave at the sight of him. He smirked at her reaction.

"I know I'm gorgeous, but I would think that my own wife would have at least grown immune to my half-naked appearance." There was a smile at the end of his words. Suddenly Hermione was filled with something she hadn't felt in years.

"Oh you think you're gorgeous?" She stalked towards him. "Well I have news for you." She reached him and let her finger slide down his chest as she forced him backwards. When he had nowhere to go, she flicked her tongue of his lips. "I've seen gorgeous, and you Draco Malfoy, are anything but." She grinned against his lips as he began to protest, silencing him with a harsh kiss. "In my opinion," she muttered as she moved away from him, "is that you're downright fuckable." She smiled devilishly before tearing out of her bedroom and into the living area of her suite. He was hot on her heals, reaching for her as he chased her around her suite. For the first time in over a year, Hermione found herself giggling. However, all that stopped when he finally did catch her, pressing her against the table at the back of the sofa, he gripped her hips hard, forcing her up onto the table, legs opening as his lips claimed hers. Her fingers delved into his hair, legs locking around him as he pulled her dress upwards. They were interrupted, however, by the crack of an apparating house elf.

"Sorry to disturb Master, but your guests are getting rather impatient. They have asked for you several times now. Shall I prepare more tea?"

Draco sighed against Hermione's lips. He turned to the house elf. "Yes, prepare more tea. We will be down momentarily." His voice was a growl.

"Yes Master." With a crack, she was gone.

"We should probably head down." Her voice was soft. He nodded.

"You're right." He didn't move. "That doesn't mean I Have to be happy about it." He moved away and helped her off the table. "I just have to get dressed." He walked back into her bedroom and Hermione quickly followed behind.

"Unless you're planning on wearing a dress, I don't think you'll find any clothes that will fit you in here." She leaned against the doorframe and watched him.

"I think you will find this especially interesting." He held out his hand. "Follow me." Hesitantly, Hermione slipped her hand into his and followed.

He pulled back the portrait of the lady in white in the forest and found the rippling portal into his bedroom. Without further hesitation, he stepped in, drawing Hermione with him.

* * *

Ron was fuming in his seat in the ballroom. Everyone was here, everyone was seated, everyone was waiting. All they needed now was Malfoy…both of them. He glared at the main doors, but they didn't open. He could tell even the Deatheaters were getting anxious. "This is ridiculous." Harry turned to him. "If Malfoy was serious about this Summit he would be here on time." Ron was barking out the words. "And so would she."

"Ron I'm sure there's a good reason that they're late. Just be patient." Harry turned to Ginny and started talking in hushed tones about something. Ron grunted and resumed his glaring. This was when the doors opened and _they_ walked in.

"It's about bloody time!"

"Ron!" He shrugged at Harry and shut up.

"I'm sorry about the delay, there was an urgent matter on the grounds that required out attention." They sat and Malfoy looked at Harry. "Let us begin." She took his hand. Ron couldn't believe his eyes. She was holding his hand under the table! He gripped the arms of his chair, watched his knuckles turning white with his anger. He didn't hear any of the words they were speaking, didn't see any of the papers they were passing, all that consumed him was the rage, the fire that burned within him to strike down Malfoy where he sat. He turned his eyes to _her_. She was looking right at him. He held her gaze for a moment before she turned away, listening to something Harry was saying. And then Harry was speaking to him and he pulled out of his reverie.

"What?" He was glaring at Harry now, and he never meant to do that.

"I want your opinion Ron. You are a part of this treaty, and we need your input." Harry was handing him something now. He placed it on the table and read. It was the treaty. _Did I really miss all of this?_ He read quickly, trying to find parts that he didn't agree with. He soon found he didn't agree with any of it.

"Harry, do you realize that this treaty gives them the ability to reopen Hogwarts, as a school of Dark Magic? Do you know what this means for us?" Harry looked at him pleadingly. He kept reading. He found that it also gave them the ability to open their own school. Well that made sense. Why not have a school of Light and a school of Dark? Then he read further down. "This gives them Bellatrix back!" It was both a question and a statement. "Are you insane?" He felt his anger building again. "I'm sorry Harry, but there's a reason why we're fighting them, and this is it. There's no way I'm signing that. There's no way I'll follow that." He looked his friend in the eye. "And if you sign it, there's no way I'll follow you." Ginny made some kind of noise. Harry just kept looking at him.

"Keep reading Ron." So he did. He saw that there were major benefits for the Light. But they came with serious prices. Some things would take years to put into place, and by then, they would have lost everything. At the bottom of the treaty, there was one clause that read as some kind of security measure. In the event that the Dark attacked or crossed borders they should not, not only would this treaty be null and void, but there would never be another treaty. All ties to any treaty made previously would be abolished. _Hermione could come home._ He looked at Harry.

"That's a big risk to take." Harry nodded. Ron shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing." He handed the treaty back. "But I'm still not signing it." Harry stared at him for a moment, then nodded again. He turned back to the assembly.

"Have we all reviewed the treaty?" Everyone nodded. "Very well. As the leader of the Light, and overseer of this Summit, I, Harry James Potter, hereby declare this treaty active upon the signature of the members of the Order, the Deatheaters, myself, and the Lord Voldemort." Ron watched in horror as his friend drew a feather quill from his robe and began to sign his name.

"You can't be serious Harry!" Ron stood, outraged. Harry finished signing and passed it to Ginny. "Ginny! Don't sign that!"

"Do you want peace Ron?" He looked back to Harry. "This treaty gives us that. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder all the time, I'm tired of being scared for my wife, for my family! I am not going to fight with you over this, Ron. If you don't want to sign it, then I'm not going to force you. Just know that on our return to London you will be banished from the Order and asked to leave. Do you understand that?" Ron sunk back into his chair, defeated.

The room was silent. Ron stared at his best friend, he stared at his sister, his brothers, the rest of the Order, and realized that he was alone. Before he could speak, he saw Hermione out of the corner of his eye lean into Malfoy and whisper something. Then he stood. "Potter, I wonder if my wife and I might have a word with you in private?" Harry nodded.

"Of course." He stood. "If you'll excuse me." He walked around the table and followed the Malfoys out of the ballroom and into the hallway beyond. Suddenly, the world seemed very, very small.

* * *

"What's this about Malfoy?" Hermione watched Harry leaning against the table in the hall. She looked at her husband. He nodded. She breathed in a deep breath.

"Ron must sign the treaty, Harry." Suddenly he was staring at her. She began to pace. "He's your friend, surely there is some way you can convince him to sign it." He was still staring at her.

"Why do you want him to sign it?" His voice was hesitant, as if he couldn't trust the words. She looked back to Draco.

"We want him to sign it because he's an Order member. Once you expel him from the Order, there isn't much he won't do to incite us to go against the treaty. He may only be one man, but he's still a wizard, he can still cause a lot of damage. If he doesn't sign the treaty, it won't be long before any hope of peace between Light and Dark is eliminated forever." Draco's voice was calm. Hermione stood beside him.

"I don't want this war to go on any longer Harry. We want peace just as much as you do." She felt him soften at her tone. Then he spoke.

"Malfoy would you mind letting me speak with your wife, alone?" Draco looked down at her. She nodded. He kissed her cheek before returning to the ballroom. Hermione stared at Harry.

"What do you wish to talk about?" She kept her voice cold, collected, calculated. He started towards her.

"Hermione, what's going on here?" He took her hands, gripped them hard. She wrenched them free.

"Don't touch me." She moved away. There was something building in her. "What do you really want to ask me, Harry?"

He crossed his arms and spoke. "I want to know what happened to you."

"Nothing _happened _to me Harry." She raised her chin. "The night I was taken before the Dark Lord he made me a Deatheater. After a few days living in Draco's suite at Hogwarts, I was brought here. Since then I have served my Dark Lord in every way. When I was told I was to marry Draco, I gladly accepted my new position. It was an honor to marry into the Malfoy family, and it is an honor to be the Dark Lord's trusted advisor." She watched the terror dawn on his face, watched comprehension of what she had become tear at his senses. She moved towards him, forcing him backwards. "I am proud of what I have become, Harry, and I will continue to serve my Dark Lord until my wand is pried from the hands of my corpse and broken." She stopped moving. "You may believe what you wish, you may believe that horrid things have happened to me. The truth, Harry, is that I love my husband, I love my home, and I love my Dark Lord with all of my heart." She turned away from his horrified face and returned to the ballroom, letting the door close firmly behind her. As she returned to her seat, she heard the door open again and Harry return. As he sat, he turned to Ron and whispered something to him before turning back to face Draco. Ron looked at Harry for a few moments before speaking.

"I will sign the treaty." Ginny passed him the parchment and quill. Just before he signed Harry stopped him.

"Wait." He stared directly at Hermione. "Lord Malfoy, I believe a Deatheater should sign first, as a sign of good faith." He slid the treaty across the table. Lady Malfoy, will you please sign?" He passed the quill over. Hermione took the quill without second thought and signed her name beneath his. It was written in blood. She passed to Draco who signed beneath her name and then passed it back to Harry. It went on like this until everyone had signed, including Ron. Slowly, after the treaty had been signed, the Deatheaters and Order members left the Manor. Draco and Hermione stood in the foyer and said goodbye to their guests. The last to leave were Harry, Ginny, and Ron.

"Mr. Potter, thank you for coming." Harry took Draco's hand and shook firmly. It was a strange gesture.

"Thank you Lord Malfoy, for granting us your home." He stepped away and Ginny stepped in. It was bittersweet to watch them all go.

"Hermione, I wish we could have talked more." Ginny hugged her. It was odd not to know how to react to it. Slowly, Hermione placed her hands on her shoulders and hugged quietly back. "We all miss you. I just wish you could come back to us." She pulled away.

"Thank you Ginny. It was lovely to see you again." She smiled softly before letting her go. She stepped away with Harry, leaving Ron.

"You know I still hate you Malfoy, more so even now." He stepped closer, then looked directly at Hermione. "I thought we were happy once. I thought I loved you once. Now I know better. Now I know I hate you, you and everything you've become." She felt the tears brimming, looked away.

"Don't speak to her like that, Weasley. I won't tell you again." Draco placed his arm around her waist, grounding her.

"What exactly are you going to do about it, Malfoy? Steal another wife from me?" He moved even closer. "You've taken everything from me, what else can you possibly do?"

"I'm asking you kindly to please leave. Our meeting is over."

Ron nodded on began to turn away. "Fine." Hermione was beginning to breathe again when Ron wheeled around, his fist flying into Draco's jaw. The loud crack echoed through the room. Draco reeled backwards and Ron followed. Only the tip of a wand thrusting into his throat stopped him where he stood.

"Don't move." Hermione stood between Ron and her husband, anger blazing in her eyes. Ron stared at her, tears forming. "Threaten my husband again, and I'll kill you, treaty be damned." He stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides. She kept her wand pointed at his chest.

"Hermione, please." His voice was broken, pleading. "Please come back." He choked on a sob. "Please come home with us."

* * *

Draco stood petrified by the scene before him. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the bruise beginning to form. He watched as Hermione lowered her wand and stared at Weasley, watched as she moved towards him. "Hermione." He didn't notice he'd spoken. She stopped and looked back at him, looked back to Weasley, touched his cheek. She pressed her lips to his softly, then stepped away.

"I loved you once Ron. I'm sorry you can't understand." She backed away quickly then, moving towards Draco, turning to him, looking up at him with sad eyes. "My place is with my husband." She looked back at Weasley. "I am home."

Draco watched the horrified look draw on Weasley's features, his face contorting first with horror, then rage, and finally grief. "I hope you're happy then." With those final words he left the Manor, Harry and the Weaslette following close behind. He breathed in deeply and found himself turning to face his wife. It was then that he noticed the sadness in her eyes. It was then that he felt something in his heart shift, and it was then that he knew. He took her hand.

"Come with me." He led her silently through the Manor and out onto the terrace. They walked around the fountains and through the roses, past the maze and through the edge of the forest. She followed him as they walked the small path through the trees, weaving around deeper and deeper into the woods.

"Where are you taking me?" She was hesitant now; he slowed and turned to her.

"Trust me." He moved forward again, and she followed quietly, each step falling heavier than the last. "It's just up here." They rounded the last grouping of trees and emerged into a small clearing. He let go of her hand and stepped aside, letting her wander on her own. The area was not natural, nor was it entirely forged by man. It was a perfect circle, covered in grass that never seemed to whither. In the center was a gazebo, white in the shining light. There were small flowers dotting the edges of the small construction, vines of the same flowers grew over the walls and onto the roofing. Draco watched as Hermione looked up into the sky, searching for the sun. "The forest is too thick here for the sun to get through. The light is magical." He moved toward her, drawing her around the gazebo and into it as he moved. "This was built by my great, great grandfather for my great, great grandmother. He built it for her before they were married and it is where he proposed." He pulled her to him, cupping her face in his hands, eyes staring deep into hers. "I want you to know, no matter what, that this place will always be yours." It was then that she smiled. He smiled even as he felt the tears slide down his cheeks. He inhaled. "I love you. Merlin, I love you so much." His lips crashed to hers, and suddenly he didn't care that he was crying, he didn't care that their lives would never be happy and simple. All he did care about was the woman in his arms, all he cared about was keeping her safe, and loving her in any way she asked.

* * *

"Blaise is here to see you, My Lord." Fenrir stood beside the throne, voice quieted beside his Lord's ear. "And he brings a gift that you will find very pleasing." He pulled away, stepping down from the throne and taking his place among the others. The Dark Lord beckoned weakly with his hand.

"Mr. Zabini, please come forward and present your gift." There was movement amid the Deatheaters as they parted to allow Blaise to move forward. He came before the Dark Lord, but he did not come alone. "I did not give you permission to stand before me. Get back!"

"My Lord, this is my gift to you." He turned to face the hooded figure and nodded. A feminine hand drew up and pulled the hood from her face. At the sight of her, a loud murmur ran through the assembly.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. How wonderful to see you again." The Dark Lord's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Weren't you imprisoned in Azkaban?" His tone turned sour.

"Yes My Lord, but in light of the recent treaty I have been released." She smiled cruelly and moved closer. "I have returned to you My Lord. I have returned to take my rightful place beside you." She was moving closer, asserting her dominance over the other Deatheaters with her boldness, a boldness that had since only been shown by one other.

"Bellatrix you will stop this instant!" The Dark Lord stood heavily. "Your insanity has caused me enough trouble, trouble which of late has been absent in this court!" He pointed to the Throne on his left. "You are no longer fit to reside beside me, to recline in this chair! You have lost your privileges, and along with it my respect!" Bellatrix shrunk away from him, her mewling sounds echoing over the hushed crowd.

"But My Lord—"

"Enough! I have tolerated your madness long enough." He turned back into his throne, exhaling blissfully as he reclined. "You are removed from your place of honor here. You may rejoin the others." He sighed and rested his head in his hand. Bellatrix backed into the crowd and disappeared.

"My Lord, I thought she might please you. Please, forgive my ignorance." Blaise kneeled before the Dark Lord, bowing his head before his Master.

"Ignorance is no excuse." He was calm now, his voice monotone and soft. "I forgive you, Blaise. You can redeem yourself in only one way, however. Bring me Hermione Malfoy, there is much for us to discuss."

Blaise grinned as he spoke. "With pleasure, My Lord."

* * *

There was a cool breeze drifting over her shoulders when she woke. As she opened her eyes, she found herself curled into Draco's arms, her head resting softly on his chest. Shifting slightly, Hermione regarded her surroundings. They were still in the gazebo in the clearing, the soft light still dancing around them. She smiled as she remembered Draco's declaration, at his actions as they sat in the gazebo, just holding one another. They were currently on the floor of the gazebo, the blankets Draco had conjured tangled around them. Turning her gaze back, Hermione watched him as he breathed, his face calm and serene. Hermione let her fingers trace over the lines of his features, delicately touching his cheeks, his nose, his brow, his jaw, his lips. His eyes fluttered open, lips parting with his breath. He smiled. "Hello, love." She smiled back.

"Hello." She leaned in a pressed her lips to his, molding herself gently into his arms. He pulled her close and deepened the kiss, arms entwining tighter around her, body pressing into hers.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting." Hermione stiffened in Draco's arms, the voice sending chills down her spine. She slowly pulled back from Draco, turning her face down. Draco looked toward the voice as he stood, offering his hand to her as she too began to stand.

"Blaise, what are you doing here?" As Hermione stood Blaise moved into the gazebo, invading her sanctuary. "I thought you weren't going to come over until tomorrow, for dinner?" Draco's arm wrapped around Hermione's waist and she was grateful for the comfort it granted her.

"I'm actually here for Hermione." His gaze turned pointedly on her. Hermione flinched into Draco. "The Dark Lord wishes to speak with her."

Draco inhaled deeply before he spoke. "Alright, we shall attend on him promptly. When does he wish for us to arrive?"

"You mistake me Draco. The Dark Lord wishes to speak with Hermione, alone. You are not to accompany her." He offered his hand to Hermione. "And he wishes it **now**." Hermione looked up at Draco and back to Blaise. She breathed deep before speaking.

"If you will wait in the parlor Blaise, I shall just freshen up and meet you there." She watched as his hand slowly retracted and a look of defeat drew on his features. An inner smirk played in her mind as he nodded and left. Hermione turned back to Draco. "Will you be alright?" He chuckled.

"You should not be asking me that. I should be asking you." He cupped her cheeks. "Will you be alright?" She nodded.

"He is my Lord, I'm sure I have done nothing to offend him, and therefore this can only be a good thing." She turned into his palms, rubbing her cheek over his hand. "I'll be home soon." Pressing a kiss into his hand she turned to leave, only to be grabbed at the nape of her neck and spun back, his lips crashing into hers.

"You better be back." His voice was a ghost of a whisper across her lips, breath intermingling with hers. She touched his cheek with her fingers.

"I love you." She kissed him gently. "I love you more than I ever thought I would." She kissed him again. "I promise to be back soon." With one final kiss she swept away, walking briskly down the path and into the woods.

* * *

The room was dark, and quiet. The Deatheaters around them were silent in their anticipation. She kneeled before the Dark Lord. "You called for my, My Lord?" Raising her eyes to meet his, she challenged him. "What is your will?" A soft murmur whispered through the crowd.

"Darling Hermione, please stand." The Dark Lord offered his hand to her. She stared at it hesitantly, but as she rose, Hermione let her hand slip into his. The jolt of sheer power that soared through her veins made her shiver. "I would like to bestow upon you an honor, the highest I can bestow." He wavered as he stood, but Hermione's hand in his stabled him as he moved. "The time is coming for us to stand, for us to fight once more. The age of Light is fading, and once that light has been extinguished we shall rise above the ashes and take what is rightfully ours." He looked into Hermione's eyes, hand gripping hers harder, back straightening before he spoke. "And we shall fight. We shall fight with a great leader, a powerful leader," he smiled at Hermione, "a leader we can all be proud to follow, a leader of my design." He looked out over the gathered Deatheaters. "May I present our savior, Lady Hermione Malfoy." The crowd erupted, with raucous murmurs and whispers. Lord Voldemort led Hermione up to the throne, seating her on his right side, her hand remaining in his as he looked out over the Deatheaters. Hermione was speechless, but her mind was racing. "Silence." The Dark Lord raised his hand and the Great Hall of Hogwarts quieted. "From this point on, you shall follow her orders as if they were my own. Under no circumstances are her demands to be brought into questions, is that understood?"

"Yes, My Lord!" The Deatheaters spoke in unison, their voices magnifying in the Great Hall.

"Dismissed." The Deatheaters bowed before their Dark Lord before exiting the Hall to attend to their duties. Lord Voldemort turned to Hermione. "You and Draco must return to Hogwarts. I have prepared the Tower for your arrival. It has been arranged so as to accommodate you and Draco for some time. I have already dispatched an owl to Malfoy Manor summoning him. He should arrive before nightfall." His hand tightened on hers, eyes boring into hers. "I must bare a deepest secret to you Hermione, one that could ruin me should anyone but you know."

"My Lord, I would be honored to carry such a secret." She placed her free hand atop his, reassuring, comforting, and smiled.

"I am dying Hermione." Her smile faded. "My body is failing, and there is no magic in this world that can save me." He turned away from her, leaning heavily into his throne. "Eventually this body will no longer be able to contain my magic, it will break down slowly. It has already begun." His head snapped towards hers, eyes piercing. "My last action on this earth will be to tutor you, as I once did Bellatrix before she lost what little was left of her mind. I will pass on what I can of mine to you, so that at least in some part, I can be present for the downfall of Harry Potter." His eyes drifted closed, his body relaxing into the throne. "I had hoped that I would be the one to end his life, but I see now that I will not survive long enough to do so." His eyes opened in a heartbeat, staring into her own, holding her with his will. "The charge falls to you, my darling Hermione. It will be my last will that you kill Harry Potter, and eliminate the threat of the Light once and for all. It is my hope that some day, and that will be a day very soon that you shall reside in this throne, with Draco proudly by your side." He inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling heavily with his breath. "You are destined for greatness my dear, a greatness I can only hope to inspire."

* * *

Draco swept into his study to find an owl waiting for him on his desk. It was from the Dark Lord. He felt himself draw a weighty breath as he took the small envelope from the owl's beak. Opening it he saw the elegant script of his mother. It was simple, asked after his health and how the Summit had gone, but that was all in just the first few sentences. As he read he realized he was being summoned the Hogwarts, not only by his mother, but also by the Dark Lord Himself. He inhaled before tearing out of his study and through the Manor to pack his things. There was one stop he had to make before he left for Hogwarts.

* * *

Hermione found herself standing in a very familiar place. The frightened Fat Lady had swung open for her slowly when she arrived. She down stood in what originally was the commonroom for Gryffindor Tower. The Tower now looked very much like the Manor, all silvers and black. The shades varied, but the design was all the same. The furnishings were all dark, dark green sofas, stained tables. She moved up the stairs and towards the girl's dorm. When she opened the door she found an almost identical replica of her suite at the Manor. Everything was white and soft. The sitting room was full of books, a fire crackling before the white sofa. There were three doors, each on one side of the room. One led to her bedroom, one to the bathroom, and one to a study. There were even more books in the study, each and every one of them pertaining to Dark Magic. Moving back to her bedroom she opened the bay doors that led out onto a new addition to the Tower. It was a balcony that swept around the tower, the section before her room opened onto a wider terrace-like space where a chaise was placed. She moved towards it, allowing herself to recline against it, watching the sunset over the Black Lake.

"I hope you like your suite." Her head snapped around and found Narcissa standing in the doorway. She smiled warmly as she moved closer. "I made sure it was as close to the one at the Manor as possible, but I couldn't do everything."

"I love it Narcissa, really. Thank you so much for everything." Hermione smiled back at Narcissa, but she knew it wasn't full,

"What's troubling you? I heard about the honor the Dark Lord has given you, is there something wrong with his decision?" She moved to sit on the edge of the chaise.

"No, I'm very happy to be so honored by Him. I just wish I had more time." Hermione looked away from Narcissa and out to the Black Lake.

"More time? I don't understand."

Hermione smiled softly before speaking. "It's nothing, I promise you." Smiling once more she turned her attention back to the sunset and the Black Lake. "You should be pleased, Draco will be arriving soon."

"Yes, I am glad. I was asked to write the letter that summoned him. I will be very happy to see my son again." She inhaled deeply. "I just wish it were under different circumstances."

"How do you mean?"

"Well I left the Manor to give you and Draco privacy, so that the two of you could get to know one another, begin to understand each other, but it seems that the two of you will always be separate, be different." She sighed. "I had hoped that you would help him become the great man I know he can be, but he hasn't changed at all. He's a very strong man, a very good man, but I fear that his weakness, his own fears, hold him back from doing what he should, from standing apart from the others around him. I fear that one day he will whither away, as I have, and there will be nothing left for him to fight for, to stand for." She touched Hermione's cheek. "He needs you Hermione, more than he knows, more than you know. You're the only one who can save him."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Narcissa stood and left her in silence and isolated. She felt tears hiding behind her eyes, stinging, prying, to fall down her cheeks. She refused them, forcing them back, hiding from them as they hid from her.

* * *

The bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand did nothing to dull the pain he felt in his heart. The bruises on his face bore into him as they throbbed, but still he felt everything in his heart too strongly. Ronald Weasley was currently slumped in an armchair before the fire in the parlor at Grimmauld Place. Harry was standing in the doorway, watching him as he drank, his eyes staring off into the fire as each sip burned down his throat.

"Harry I'm worried about him. He's going to drink himself to death." Ginny touched Harry's arm, pulling him into the hall as she spoke.

"I know, but he won't listen to me, he won't listen to anyone." Harry glanced up at the door as a knock sounded lightly. "I wonder who that is…" He moved to the door and opened it cautiously. What he found on the doorstep shocked him to his core.

"Hello Potter, we need to talk." Draco Malfoy pushed past him and into the hall, sweeping past the speechless Ginny and into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting himself down at the table, waiting for Harry to join him. Before that happened, Ginny regained her ability to move, let alone speak, and had her wand out and upon him before he could take the first sip of tea. He looked up at her incredulously. "Do you mind? I would like to drink my tea."

"What the fuck are you doing in our house? How the fuck did you find it?" Her eyes were blazing as she screeched at him. He took a sip of his tea and pushed her wand slowly away from his face.

"I'm actually surprised your husband didn't tell you about our little chat. But that is neither here nor there. We need to discuss some very important matters that are going to have to take priority over you, or your brother for that matter, trying to kill me for my past transgressions." He took another sip of his tea before setting the teacup and saucer down on the table. "Harry, if you wouldn't mind joining us in the kitchen, maybe explaining a few things to your wife? I would like to get back to my wife alive, if at all possible." He smiled innocently at Ginny before taking to his tea again. This is when Harry walked in.

"Draco, what are you doing here? I thought we weren't going to meet again until after the New Year?" He crossed his arms defensively as he spoke, glaring at Ginny as he did so.

"Yes, that was the plan. Unfortunately, I've had to move our plans up a bit. The Dark Lord is moving up his, and the time for us to act is drawing close." His eyes bore into Harry's. "He's summoned Hermione and I to Hogwarts…permanently." Harry's whole demeanor changed.

"Ginny, go sober up your brother and get him in here. Summon the Order and be quick about it. We have a lot of work to do."

"But Harry, aren't you going to explain—"

"Yes, I will explain everything. I just find it easier to tell everyone at the same time rather than tell one person after another. Please, hurry. There should be a few potions in the medicine cabinet that will help with Ron." He took a seat across from Draco. "Tell me everything."

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_ Hey everyone! Sorry it's taken me so long to get this latest chapter up. It's titled 'outcast' because of the choice Hermione makes, about her friends that she leaves behind, and how at the end she becomes the Dark Lord's right hand and is then 'outcast' within the group she chose over her own friends. So, she's not only an outcast in the world she was once part of, but she's an outcast within the Deatheaters. My question to you, oh faithful readers and reviewers is: In your opinion, how did Hermione get to be the way she is, and how has she come so far within the Deatheaters and with the Dark Lord, and yet fallen so far from the Light and into the hands of the Dark? I appreciate all opinions, be they good or bad, and I love reading what you all think! Please review or send me a message with your opinion, I can't wait to read them all!_

_-The Crimson Sheath_


	8. Unstoppable

The room she was in was cold. The walls were black stone, the floor cold marble. She wore a long black gown, her back exposed, her Dark Mark flashing in the light. Before her stood her Dark Lord, his wand poised, his back straight. Around them stood the children of the Deatheaters, all watching in awe as their teachers demonstrated. "For every action there is a reaction. The same goes for every spell, ever hex, ever curse you command." The Dark Lord's voice carried over the silent hall. Hermione held herself erect before her newest students, facing her Dark Lord, blatantly staring into his eyes. "I may be your Headmaster, but Lady Malfoy is our finest teacher, and you shall follow every direction she gives as if they were my own. Is this understood?" His eyes pierced the hearts of the students in before him. There was a murmur of acknowledgement, barely a whisper of their agreement.

"Answer your Lord!" Hermione's voice boldly rose over their whispers.

"Yes, My Lord!" They stood straighter now, their bodies unwilling to disobey.

"Very good, very good indeed." He turned to Hermione, lowering his wand and stepping towards her. "Hermione, my dear, I will leave you to your lesson." He nodded his head to her and she lowered her own in response. He offered her his hand and she gladly took it, feeling his grip harden as he grounded himself with her strength. She walked with him to the door, handing him off to one of the many Deatheaters that guarded the Halls of Hogwarts. As the doors to her classroom slowly swung closed, Hermione turned to face her students.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor Malfoy and you shall address me as such. This class is Dark Arts Level 4, if you are in the wrong class, I suggest you leave now and find Professor Currige who will advise you on the best course of action. If you will all take your seats." She waved her wand and desks appeared in a semi-circle in the room, all facing towards her desk at the front of the classroom. She moved to her desk and began pass out the syllabi for the year. The students waited patiently for their syllabi, each taking theirs from the pile as it passed weightlessly by their desk. Hermione sighed as she went through the syllabi, answering each question, demonstrating when necessary, and as the class wore on, she found herself increasingly weary, increasingly drained. It was as if her magic was slowly draining away. It was a feeling she dreaded more than death itself.

* * *

He was pacing in his suite, his arms crossed over his chest, the air puffing over his lips as he breathed heavily. He was trapped here, trapped in his alma mater, trapped in a place he once called home. His only solace was in the peace he found with his wife, the calm he found in her arms. It was a calm that was fast dissolving into nothing. Even as he walked the length of his study, staring out the window for moments at a time, just wishing it all could have come out differently, he found himself lacking something, lacking the resolve to do what he knew he must.

"Sir, the Dark Lord summons you." The Deatheater at the door poked his head in gingerly, as if expecting a hex. Draco turned to face him.

"I shall attend him shortly." He nodded once at the man before the Deatheater silently nodded back and disappeared. Draco turned back to the window, looking out over the grounds, staring out over the castle and into the forest, simply wanting to run. He turned on his heel and tore out of his study, through his suite and out of the Tower. He was in the Great Hall now, standing before the Dark Lord, kneeling in worship, head bowed in reverence.

"Draco. You and your wife are happy here, yes?" His voice was smooth and calculated.

"Of course, My Lord. We're more happy here than we have ever been." His eyes were trained on the cold floor, the unyielding stone beneath him.

"Good, I'm pleased." He drank from a goblet placed on the arm of his throne. "It's been a year since you moved back to Hogwarts, is that right?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"And how long have we been in peace with the Light?" He drank again, his lips smacking over the rim of the goblet.

"Almost three years, My Lord. The most recent treaty was signed just over a year ago." He chanced a glance at Lord Voldemort. The man looked frailer and frailer with every passing day.

"I see." He cleared his throat. "You are as of yet unaware of this, Draco, but some time very soon, a new leader will rise among us. She shall be the most powerful witch of our age, and she will succeed where I have failed. The woman I am referring to is your wife." The Dark Lord's eyes pierced him as his head snapped up, staring blatantly into the face of Lord Voldemort.

"I don't understand, My Lord?"

He motioned for Draco to stand. "For the past year, I have been training Hermione, molding her into a leader for our people, a beacon for the Dark." Draco moved cautiously forward. "You have not been to a meeting in some time Draco, it seems your class schedules are always conflicting. No matter, I have not summoned you to the meetings of late for several reasons, one of them being that you are far more useful here than out in the field. However, had you been to those meetings you would have seen that your wife, my dearest Hermione, sits here, on my right hand. She has gained the respect of the Deatheaters, the respect she now rightfully deserves. You must understand Draco, that when she succeeds me, when she takes her rightful place on this throne, you will be sitting where she is sitting now. It will be up to you to protect her, as she protects me." The Dark Lord smiled fondly of some memory Draco knew not of. It made bile rise in his throat. "I want you to rise with her, Draco. I want you to shine as brightly as she does now. For that purpose, I have decided to offer you a place by my side." He gestured to his left, the empty seat glaring at Draco from the dais. "You must follow in your wife's footsteps Draco, you must take _your_ rightful place by _her_ side. Together, you shall be unstoppable."

Draco stopped moving. His mind refused to comprehend exactly what was happening. It was as if time had stopped as the words slowly sank into his consciousness. His eyes met the Dark Lord's as he knelt, following some path he had not yet seen. "I will do as you command, My Lord." He bowed his head and let his eyes slip shut, the burden of this decision weighing heavily through his body.

"Draco, please. Come and take your place." Draco looked up and saw the Dark Lord motioning for him to sit beside him. Slowly, he stood and moved to the empty seat, his body rigid and tense. "There is a meeting in a few moments, take that time to grow accustomed to your new place." As he took his seat, Draco felt his body grow even more stressed, even more stiff. The time was drawing close, and now he could not see where to go. It was then that the Great Hall doors opened and the Deatheaters began to pour in. He felt his heart sink.

* * *

Hermione moved silently through the halls, her feet falling soundlessly on the stones. She passed many followers as she walked, each bowing their head in reverence. Nodding in response, Hermione let her feet carry her onwards, forward to the Great Hall. As she entered, she noted that the meeting had already begun, but movement stopped as she arrived in the room. Each Deatheater summoned fell to their knees, humble in their devotion. They parted as she walked to the dais, rising as she passed. She almost froze at the sight of her husband on the Dark Lord's left. When she reached the dais she knelt before the Dark Lord, taking his hand in hers and pressing it to her cheek. "My Lord."

"Hermione, please rise and take your seat. There is much to discuss." She stood and moved to her seat, feeling Draco's eyes on her forcefully as she sat. The Dark Lord addressed the assembly. "As you all can see there has been an addition to our meetings. You all know Draco Malfoy do be a dedicated follower and the beloved husband of my darling Hermione." His hand touched hers and Hermione bowed her head. "The time has come. This peace with the light has reached its close. It is time to act." He moved to stand, his body shaking with the effort. Hermione moved to take his arm, to guide him, but he waved her away. "I have not yet told you why I asked Hermione to sit beside me, neither have I told you why you have seen less and less of me in these past years." Hermione damned the consequences and went to him, taking his arm in hers and holding him steady. He glared at her and accepted her help. "As you all can see my body is failing me. The power I have gained is slowly eating away at me, at my body. For this purpose have I given Hermione the seat beside me. She has ruled beside me and has helped me in most dire times." The Dark Lord faltered in his step and Hermione clutched him to her, holding him upright. "The time has come for me to pass, for this body to cease in existence, for Hermione to take her rightful place. It is time for Hermione to lead us to victory over the Light, for our power to reign supreme over all!" He clutched his side as pain splintered through him. Hermione began to turn him to the dais, but he held strong. "Draco, please." He held out his arm and Draco moved to take it, holding the Dark Lord up with his strength. "Hermione, kneel before your Lord."

Hermione cautiously let the Dark Lord go, trusting in Draco to keep him upright. _He's so week, so fragile. He won't be able to perform the spell. Everything we've worked so hard for will be lost!_ Her eyes never left his as he gradually drew his wand. Hermione breathed steadily, waiting for the spell to be complete. The Dark Lord was waving his wand around her, chanting, the words pouring from his mouth in a strain so concrete that nothing could stop it now. _It's going to work; it has to work. I won't let him sacrifice everything for nothing!_ His wand was pointed directly at her now, green light spouting from the tip as the Dark Lord's voice rose with the power of the spell. Hermione felt all eyes on her, but one she felt stronger than the others. She shifted her gaze to Draco, letting her fear shine through her eyes, letting the hope she felt for their triumph pour out of her as the spell began to weave into her. The green light wound around her, twisting into her, piercing her as it wove into her own magic. She felt it tearing into her, felt pain blister in her soul. Someone was screaming, their shrieks piercing the silence of the hall. It took her only a moment to realize that the one screaming was her. Trying to breathe, trying to draw in some kind of breath, Hermione felt her body ripping, felt her magic tearing as the Dark Lord's power drew into her, the spell completing as she collapsed. Her breath was ragged, her body weak as she began to adjust, her senses attuning to their newfound power.

"Hermione…" The voice was weak; barely a whisper, but she'd know it anywhere. Before she could stop herself, she was on her feet, moving to the Dark Lord, holding him as he crumpled. As she cradled him in her arms, his hand touched her face. "Darling Hermione," he choked on the words, "it is your time now. You must lead them on. You must guide them. It is up to _you_ now to drive Harry Potter and the Light from this land. It is time for Deatheaters to rule." His voice faded, his body shaking with each breath.

"My Lord," she spoke with tears, "don't leave us." She felt him dying, felt his breath leaving. "Please don't leave us."

"I trust in you, Hermione. Finish what I started." He coughed as he began to fade faster. "I will see you again." Hermione clutched him to her as his body went limp, his hands falling to his sides, eyes sliding shut for the last time.

* * *

Draco knelt beside his wife as she held the Dark Lord. He didn't know what had just happened, didn't know what he was supposed to do, didn't know where to turn. It was only moments ago that he had been given the chair on the Dark Lord's left side, and _now_. Now he was to sit on his wife's right. Now he was to protect her from the very people he had been working with for the past three years. He breathed deeply and spoke. "Hermione?" She didn't answer. He watched as she clutched the body and wept, openly displaying a caring for the Dark Lord that no one had ever shown. "Hermione, there are things that need to be taken care of now." He tried to compartmentalize, tried to hold his emotions in check. "We must arrange for the burial." She froze. He didn't know how long she stayed that way, but when she finally moved, she let the Dark Lord's body slip from her arms, placing his arms across his chest as she did so. He watched her stand and flick her hand, watched as Deatheaters surrounded the body and lifted it with reverence and care, moving it from the Great Hall to an antechamber. She then moved to the throne and took the Dark Lord's seat, her eyes moving out over the crowd.

"Our Dark Lord has left his power to me, and with it I hope to follow in his footsteps and complete his task. I ask only that you follow me as you did him, and that you trust in his judgment and his respect of me." She breathed heavily before continuing. "There shall be a ceremony tomorrow in honor of our Dark Lord. He shall be entombed in the Chamber of Secrets and it shall be transformed into a chamber worthy of his power and significance. It shall begin tomorrow at sundown." She held out her hand to Draco, beckoning him to her. "Draco, please take your place beside me." He took her hand in awe, took his seat in silence and looked out at the Deatheaters. "You are all dismissed. Tell the students that whomever should wish to pay last respects to our Dark Lord are welcome in the Chamber of Secrets. Goodnight."

The Deatheaters bowed and filed out of the Great Hall, leaving Draco and Hermione in utter silence. Draco turned to face her. "Why didn't you tell me?" She didn't answer. He took her hand in his, gripped it hard. "Why didn't you tell me about all of this?" He was angry now, rage flowing through him as reality set in.

"Because I couldn't. I couldn't tell you about this because our Dark Lord did not want me to." Her hand covered his as she faced him, tears in her eyes. "He was training me Draco, teaching me everything he knew." She inhaled a sob. "He was a great leader, Draco, and a great man. He knew his body was not lasting, he knew that someday he would have to give up all that he had become. He chose me, he gave me his power!" There was a smile on her lips now, a smile that Draco suddenly dreaded with all his heart. "I have been given a great gift, Draco. He passed all his knowledge on to me, and I will use what he has given me to bring a new day to the Deatheaters." Her smile turned to a sneer, her joy to anger. "I will crush the light with this power, and I will return the Deatheaters to the revered power they once were." Her breath came heavily, her body pulsing with her new power. "It is time for a change, Draco. It is time that our enemies know that we are powerful, and that there is no stopping us." She kissed him then, her lips bruising in the harsh press of her lips. He couldn't help himself as he kissed her back, his passion for her growing as she straddled him. Even as his mind reeled with the revelation that he was losing her, Draco lost himself in her. He loved her, and there was nothing he could do to stop her decent into madness.

* * *

Harry was waiting in the kitchen, his tea cold, his mind rampant with things that could have gone wrong. The Order was assembled, the time set, and still he was late. He was never late. "Harry, where is he? Could something have gone wrong?" Ginny was beside him, her hand on his arm.

"I'm sure he's fine." He turned to look at her. "I'm sure he just go caught up."

"I knew we couldn't trust him! He's a Deatheater! We never could trust him!" Ron threw his hands in the air and began to pace. The other Order members began to fidget.

"Everyone calm down. He'll be here, and I trust him! Without him we would have lost this war long ago! We would have lost Hermione!" Ron stopped pacing and fingered the chain around his neck. "Be patient Ron, I'm sure he'll come." At that moment a faint crack of apparation sounded beyond the door. The creak of the front door echoed through Grimmauld Place as they waited. Harsh footsteps fell on the old wood floor before Draco Malfoy stepped into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry I'm late." He discarded his cloak over the last empty chair and poured himself some cold tea, downing it in one gulp. "I have news."

"You always have news. Whether it's good or bad is what we're wondering." Neville crossed his arms and glared at Draco. Harry glared at Neville.

"Look Draco, if you were a few minutes late, that wouldn't have mattered, but today, if you hadn't noticed, you're three hours late. We were beginning to think you weren't coming." Harry stood and clapped Draco on the shoulder. "What's the news, good or bad?"

"Well I have good news…" There was a collective sigh of relief. "But I also have bad news. And the bad news is by far the worst news I could ever bring." Harry watched as Draco breathed, noticed his red-rimmed eyes, the drawn look of his face.

"What's going on, Draco?" Harry tried to remain calm, but there was a feeling of dread deep in his gut.

"Good news first?" Everyone nodded. Draco smiled weakly. "Well you'll all be happy to know that the Dark Lord has been extremely weak for the past year, so weak in fact that he's taken on a successor, someone he can depend on, someone he trusts more than he trusts himself."

"Well, what's the significance of that?" Draco glared at Seamus.

"The significance is that if I had been able to get to you sooner then we could have taken him down!" Draco's fist banged hard on the table, rattling teacups and saucers. He breathed deeply. "That, however is not the better part of the good news."

"Well do tell us!" Ron's sarcasm was laced with venom.

"Ron." Harry tried to maintain order.

"I'm getting to it, Weasel." Draco smirked at Ron before continuing. "Just yesterday, the Dark Lord gave me a seat by his side. He told me that soon there would be a leader for the Dark unlike any other. He said that I would have to protect them as they do him. This declaration and offer was followed by a gathering of all the most honored Deatheaters." He met Harry's eyes. "Hermione was there." He blinked back what Harry thought were tears. "Apparently the Dark Lord has been holding meetings with her on his right side for the past year and not summoning me to those meetings."

"So you really don't know—"

"Shut up and let me get to the point! I haven't been summoned to those meetings because I was more useful teaching the new students at Hogwarts than out in the field. I've been teaching the new students how to fly, as a Seeker would, as you would Harry. The Deatheaters have an army of flyers that have been trained by me, and you remember how good I was." There was a gleam, a memory in Draco' eye then, a memory that Harry shared. "So, this meeting was on the heavier side of things. Hermione arrived and took her place beside the Dark Lord on his right, I was on his left." He sat then, pouring more cold tea and drinking it in gulps. "I didn't know what was happening, I couldn't stop what was happening." He choked before breathing heavily again, his words clipped and tense. "The Dark Lord is dead." The room was silent. Harry couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"I'm sorry, did you just say that Voldemort is dead?" Draco nodded. Harry began to smile. "Draco, that is probably the best news you could have ever brought us!" With a wave of his wand there was champagne on the table, glasses popping into existence before every Order member. There was stunned silence before an eruption of laughter and shouting, followed by pouring and drinking of champagne.

"I'm not finished." Harry barely heard him. "I'M NOT FINISHED YET!" Draco's voice boomed over the din. "Compared to the bad news, that is hardly a good thing." Harry put his flute down.

"What exactly is the bad news, Malfoy?"

Draco stood. "He transferred his power to his successor. Now she is more powerful, more deadly, than the Dark Lord ever was! She was the most powerful witch that ever existed, and he gave her everything! He tutored her, taught her everything he knew, and then he gave her all of his magic! The bad news is that had I been able to get to you sooner, to tell you that he was weak, then we could have destroyed him forever! We could have ended this stupid war in one swift blow!" He was raging now, his anger flooding out of him in terrifying bursts. "The Dark Lord may be dead, but his successor is going to reign terror and death over this land like you've never seen before!" He collapsed into his chair. "I thought I could save her, and now she's going to destroy us all." Harry watched the tears stream down Draco's cheeks, watched the pain carve over his face. He knelt beside him.

"Draco, who is his successor?" He shook his head. "Draco, I need you to tell us who he gave his power to." Draco turned his eyes to Harry, piercing him with his anger and sorrow.

"Hermione. He gave it to Hermione, Harry!" He was sobbing now. "He took her, and he corrupted her, and he mangled her into exactly what he wanted!" Harry gripped Draco's shoulder, feeling his own tears begin to flow. "All I wanted was for her to be safe, for her to be protected from the evil that Voldemort was, and now she's become that evil!" Everyone in the room was weeping now, realization dawning on them that hope was almost gone. Draco clutched Harry, his rage melting into agony and grief. "I've lost her Harry. She's going to use his power to destroy us all, and all I can do is stand by her and watch her do it." He crumpled, defeated, into Harry's arms. Harry held him, felt his heart break with Draco's as the time to act drew on him. Finally, when Draco's sobs had subsided and his breath was no longer ragged, Harry released him and stood, facing the Order. He breathed heavily and spoke.

"It's now or never. We must strike while she is still unaccustomed to her new abilities." Harry gripped Draco's shoulder, staring him in the eye. "We can still save her, Draco. We can still bring her back to us." He turned back to the Order. "You all know what we were planning, now it's time to speed it up. The original attack was planned on Malfoy Manor, and with a little luck, maybe we can still use that plan. Draco, can you get Hermione to the Manor? Can you keep her there for a weekend?" Draco nodded. "Good. That's when we'll move. Neville, get the robes. We have manufactured Deatheater robes so that we may pass as Deatheaters once we are in the Manor. The Dark Mark will be the trick, however. Draco, you're going to have to open the gates for us when we arrive."

"That'll never work. I'll create an entrance for you through the woods. The gate is too heavily guarded. Even when Hermione wasn't the Leader of the Dark the Manor was heavily defended. Now, with her new power, Deatheaters will be posted at every entrance. The woods are your best bet. I'll tear a hole in the wards the day of. I can't do it sooner or it'll be noticed." Draco waved his wand over the table and the champagne disappeared, and in its place was a three-dimensional map of the Manor. "Everyone look closely. The main gate is here, that's where the wards are the most powerful. Guards will be posted here, here and here." Draco gestured to each of the places. "You will have to be extremely careful…"

The meeting went on for another four hours before Draco finally left, leaving Harry in charge of further preparations. The attack was set for the coming weekend. Draco was going to ask Hermione to come back to the Manor for the weekend to spend time with him away from all the war and preparations that the Deatheaters were making. He had no doubt that she would come. Harry wrapped up the meeting with a speech about how it was all going to work, and how they would get Hermione back. He, however, was not so sure. He knew that if this plan was unsuccessful he would have to take the final step and destroy Voldemort's power. No matter the cost.

* * *

She lay in her bed, the moonlight playing across her face as she waited. It was almost three in the morning, and he was still locked away in his office grading papers. Then the door clicked and she breathed easier. Wrapping herself in her sheet, Hermione slipped from her bed and into his bedroom, silently watching him as he dropped his cloak and clothes. "Draco…" He jumped slightly before calming.

"Hermione, what are you still doing awake? I would've thought you'd have been asleep ages ago." He moved to her, his chest glinting in the dim candlelight.

"I missed you." She smiled up at him. Her lips met his then, arms weaving around his waist and dragging him against her. He let his hands run through her hair, tangling in them as he molded his mouth to hers.

"I love you." It was whispered against her lips, but she froze. Pulling back she looked him in the eye.

"You really do love me, don't you?" Her hand touched his face.

"Of course I do." He smiled. "I think I've loved you ever since that first stolen kiss back in school." He pulled her close, inhaled her scent. "I've loved you ever since you stayed with me through the night in the hospital wing, since that morning that I woke beside you and you kissed me before you left." He kissed her neck softly. "I have loved you ever since you held me in your arms, ever since you showed me what no one else had." He pulled away and looked into her eyes. "You showed me kindness when I thought no one ever could. It was you that stopped me from killing Dumbledore, Hermione. I couldn't do it because I knew that somewhere there was still hope, still light shining in the darkness. I knew then that no matter what happened, no matter how horrible things got, that I would love you for the rest of my life." He kissed her then, his lips gently pressing into hers, body moving into hers as they stumbled towards his bed. Her arms around him, legs entwined, they lay together, and Draco couldn't have been happier. And then the gravity of reality slipped into his mind. When they lay together in the early morning, her head resting softly on his chest, he spoke. "Let's get away." She rose onto her side, facing him and staring at him questioningly. "This weekend. Let's go to the Manor, just for the weekend. I just want to be with you, alone, away from everything that's happening now." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "Let's just get away."

"Draco, you know I can't just leave. There are things I have to take care of. Plans have been set into motion that I need to oversee—"

"I don't care about the plans, Hermione!" He took her face in his hands, kissed her, branded her lips with his. "I just want to be with you, have you all to myself, just for a few days. Is that so much to ask?" Her hand covered his as he stared at her.

"Alright. We'll go to the Manor this weekend. I'll have to bring some protection though. Things have changed, Draco. I can't do whatever I want anymore. I have responsibilities, duties, things that have been left unfinished for too long. I must begin to mend what has been broken. There is much to be done." She pulled away from him and stood, wrapping his sheet around her as she made her way into the lavatory. Normally he would have followed her, would have run his hands over her under the spray of the shower. Today was different. It was Thursday. They would be leaving tomorrow for the Manor. Hermione was right. Things were different now. Things were very, very different.

* * *

Friday came all too soon for Harry's taste. The Order had moved into the woods just beyond the Malfoy grounds and set up a campground. They'd been here since Wednesday. Everyone was on edge, and there was nothing he could do to ease it. It was Friday afternoon and Harry had a growing sense of dread in his stomach, a growing sense of unease that would not rest.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Ginny came up behind him, placing her hand on his arm when she reached him. He turned to look at her.

"I'm not hungry. We still have a lot of work to do before tonight." He looked back to the woods, his eyes staring at the barrier. "The wards start just there. That is where Draco will create a tear. It's going to be tricky. The tear will be narrow enough so as not to draw attention, but wide enough for two people to step through. It's going to be very difficult."

"Don't worry. I'm sure we'll be fine." Her head rested on his arm.

"I'm not worried. I'm terrified of what's happened to Hermione. I just don't know what to expect from her now." He pulled away from his wife and moved into their tent, closing the flap softly behind him. Sinking into their bed he took off his glasses and covered his eyes with his hand, fingers digging into his temples, pushing his migraine to the back of his mind. "I don't want to have to kill her."

* * *

Hermione was awake early on Friday morning. She and Draco had finished preparing for the weekend away the night before and everything was settled. They would return to Hogwarts on Monday when their new suite would be prepared. Hermione had given specific orders that their new rooms were to be in Dumbledore's old office. The view of the grounds was superb from the windows, and it was more than large enough to accommodate them. They were to be given one bedroom and two studies. Everything was to be taken care of and arranged by the time they returned. She left McNair in charge. Her entourage of Deatheaters included Crabbe, Goyle, Fenrir, Lestrange and his wife Bellatrix. She would much rather leave Bellatrix behind, but she did like having the woman close, if only to watch her every move.

They would be traveling by apparation to just beyond the gates of the Manor where they would enter the grounds using their Dark Marks. Her protection detail was small, but effective. Fenrir Greyback was her most loyal, aside from Draco, and she felt his presence anywhere other than by her side was a waste. At the meeting before they left she had offered him her left side. He was honored, of course, as one should be when given such a gift. Now he followed her everywhere. It was comforting to have someone guarding her at all times. Now, as she went over the final preparations with Fenrir, Hermione felt something she had never felt before. There was a pulling in her, a dragging sense on her mind. It was if she was apparating, and yet not. Her hand gripped Fenrir's arm as pain wracked her mind.

_"I don't care what he promised! I don't care how helpful he's been, Harry! Don't you see that this a trap!" Ron was pacing before her, and yet she was not herself. Suddenly she spoke._

_ "Please Ron, please just try to be patient, try to see that this is a good thing! If he wasn't helping us, we wouldn't have the information we have! We wouldn't know that Hermione is safe!"_

_ "Oh she's safe, alright! She's safe married to that FERRET! For all we know Voldemort is still alive and this is all just a great trick to get you to the Manor so he can kill you! Use your brain Harry!"_

_ "I am, Ron! I'm trusting Draco! He's earned it! You don't know what he goes through every day! You don't know how he feels!" Her voice was not her own. It was Harry's, and it was angry._

_ "And what does he feel! He married her because his precious Dark Lord told him to! He married her because he didn't have a choice!" Ron was bright red now, his anger enforcing his voice as he raged. "__**You**__ had a choice, Harry. You could have said no to this treaty all those years ago! You could have saved her then. You could have put a stop to this when you were told that she was to be given up! I didn't have to lose her! She didn't have to go." Ron was sobbing, and Hermione…no __**Harry**__ was suddenly filled with guilt and grief. Hermione was disgusted. She tried to scream, tried to get away, and found that she could not leave. And then Harry spoke, and her words flowed from his mouth like air._

_ "You're so pitiful, Ronald. I'm more powerful now than ever before! I have more magic in me than ever before!" Ron was staring at Harry, horrified by what was being uttered. Hermione could feel the confusion in Harry's mind, but she couldn't stop herself now. "You and your Order don't stand a chance against me! I am Lord Voldemort and I am going to kill you!"_

She was being ripped, apparating again, yet not. There were strong hands on her, holding her still, pressing her into a wall. "Lady Malfoy! Lady Malfoy!" Slowly a face swam into her vision, blurred at first, but clearing with each passing moment.

"Fenrir, we are in great danger."

* * *

Draco was pacing in their suite at the Manor. Time was running out, and night was falling. He grabbed his wand and moved swiftly through the halls and corridors of the Manor, weaving through the serving quarters and passageways, trying not to be seen. It was easier than he thought. There seemed to be no one on guard, no one to stand in his path. It was strange, but not unusual. _They could just bee on the other side of the property at this moment._ He shook away his uncertainties and continued on his route. When he was out of the Manor and weaving through the grounds, Draco felt a prickling on the back of his neck, like he was being watched. Ducking behind a particularly large fern, he crouched, waiting. It seemed he waited for ages, but only moments passed in silence around him. When he finally moved from his hiding place, he felt that same prickling, but dismissed it and treaded onwards. As he neared the woods on the edge of the grounds, the small winding path leading into them taunted him with memories. Blinking away tears he entered the forest, walking the path steadily towards the gazebo. Once there, he moved just beyond the trees. He could see the Order there, their encampment just beyond the wards. Thankfully they could not see him, or they would have seen a nervous wreck about to fall to pieces. Breathing deeply, Draco stepped through the wards and into the campsite.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Weasley was closest and saw Draco step out of nowhere first. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He was clutching his chest and breathing heavily.

"Oh, if only." Draco smirked before making his way deeper into the encampment. Harry and Ginny came out of their tent and greeted him, Harry with more warmth than the others. "Harry, something's off."

"I know." He took a deep breath before continuing. "We had a bit of an experience earlier today." His eyes shifted between his wife and Weasley. Draco began to feel queasy. "We believe that the connection between Voldemort and myself still exists. Not only that but I believe that it's become stronger since his magic joined with Hermione's. I believe he's still very much alive, and he knows we're coming."

Draco looked at Harry blankly, his eyes not really seeing, or believing. Slowly, he let his eyes travel over the ramshackled group of Order members who'd turned out. Everyone was here. Ginny Potter gripped Harry Potter's arm tightly, Neville and Luna Longbottom linked arm-in-arm beyond. Seamus Finnegan and Justin Finch-Fletchly stood together, yet apart, beside them. Cho Chang sat defeated on a stool by a fire, Fred and George Weasley holding identical poses behind her. Beyond them were the older members of the Order. Mad Eye Moody stood with Minerva McGonagall, each of them clasping their hands before them, waiting. Flitwick was there as well, though hardly noticeable beside Hagrid. Poppy Pomfrey stood beside a slouching Horace Slughorn, trying to get him to drink something. There were so many others here, so many people that Draco never knew, didn't even know their names. There were so many willing to fight, to die, for what they believed in. He met everyone's eyes, holding them for the briefest of moments before moving on, pressing onwards. Finally, he turned to his left, directly beside him, and met the eyes of Ronald Weasley. "Let's take a walk." Before he could answer, Draco turned on his heal and strode out of the camp and into the thick of the woods, thankful for the crunch of boots that followed him.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Draco paused and looked back. "Do you love her?" The words surprised him as they left his lips. They were not exactly what he had intended to say to the Weasel, but he bit his tongue.

"Of course I love her!" Draco flinched slightly at the heightened baritone of Ron's voice. Then it grew soft. "I'll always love her."

"Then why didn't you stop her?" He didn't know why he couldn't stop. He didn't know why he was breaking into Weasley's mind, into his heart. He was opening wounds that had no right to be opened ever again. "Why didn't you keep her where she belonged?" He was screaming now. He couldn't stop it. "You could have stopped her! You could have protected her! She loved you, she wanted you, she was happy!" The distance between them had begun to shrink as Draco raged. "None of this ever would have happened if you'd protected her when you had the chance!" His hand lashed out, shoving Ron backwards.

"Now hang on a minute—"

"No! You failed her! This is all your fault! It was never me that could save her! It was never me she loved!" His face had grown hot, his eyes burning with liquid fire that ran down his cheeks. Draco felt his hands fist into Ron's shirt, shoving him hard against a tree, screaming at him still. "She's gone, and it's all your fault!" Before he could control himself, his fist flew backwards and nailed Ron square on the jaw. He was drawing back for another swing when Ron thrust himself against him, forcing him to stumble backwards and into the dirt. They rolled, both yelling, both raging over what they had lost. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Ron pinned Draco beneath him, holding him tight against his chest.

"Easy Malfoy. Calm down, just breathe." Ron's voice was soothing, something that Draco had thought he'd never think of the Weasel. Draco's breaths were heaving and hard, tears streaking through the dirk that had caked on his face in their scuffle. "Just breathe." Soon he was sobbing, clinging to the arm that was wrapping over his chest and arms. Soon he was no longer fighting. Soon he was only grieving.

"She's gone." The words choked out of his throat, the air gasping out after them as he tried to breathe.

Ron's other arm came around him once more, no longer gripping him for dominance, but holding him snuggly against his chest in an embrace that was never thought to ever occur. "She's not gone, Malfoy. She's not gone." They were silent then for minutes that passed as if they were years. When they finally rolled away from each other and stood, their eyes met. "You know Malfoy, she never would have stayed if she didn't love you." He wiped blood from his chin. "She loves you, Draco. It was always you." Ron stalked back to the camp, leaving Draco to follow silently in defeat, knowing that what he said was true.

* * *

"Are you sure, Lady Malfoy?" Fenrir was beside her in the woods, searching diligently for the Order's encampment.

"Of course I'm sure. It was as if I was Harry, and yet not. It was strange." They came through a cluster of trees and Hermione knew they had arrived. "They were here, not ten minutes ago." She spun around to face the Deatheaters behind her. "Find them!" She watched as swirls of black smoke dissipated and intermingled with the trees. Holding her ground, she waiting. They were here, she knew it. She just couldn't quite place them. Then she felt it. There was a familiar presence behind her, one she knew and yet did not know. Hermione directed her wand up into the sky, the silent spell shooting through her wand and into the thickening clouds. Soon, the Dark Mark would overwhelm the sky and every Deatheater would come to her aid.

"Now!" She knew that voice. But it was too late. Suddenly Order members surrounded her, wands pointed at her, shaking in the hands of their bearers, anger blazing in their eyes.

"No body move." It was Harry. Hermione's eyes flicked to his, matching his power head-on. She smiled.

"Hello Harry." Her voice dripped with malice. "It's been a long time."

"Not long enough Tom."

"Clever boy." Hermione's wand twitched in her hand. "I'm surprised the brightest witch of your age couldn't figure that out. Although, she was quite overwhelmed with everything that I put before her. She really has performed her job spectacularly." There were explosions in the distance, screams and spells sounding through the forest in a chorus of echoes and silence. "More will be coming. There will always be more, Harry. Nothing you can do about that."

"I know, Tom. But if you want to kill a snake, best cut off the head." His wand was raised, but his hand shook. Hermione's smile widened.

"What're you going to do, Harry? Kill me?"

* * *

Draco watched from beyond the tree line. Fenrir lay dying at his feet. "Avad—"

"Avada Kedavra." He didn't even look at him as he whispered the killing curse. His eyes were fixed on Hermione and the blinding power that surged from her. "I'm so sorry Hermione." He stepped out of the trees. "My Lord." He bowed his head slightly.

"Hello Draco." Hermione's back straightened, but Draco didn't miss the slight tremble in the hand that hung by her side. "I must admit I'm a little surprised. I thought you above all were my most loyal. Pity."

"I'd like to speak to Hermione. I know she's in there." He was moving closer, closing the distance between them with every step. There were fewer Order members surrounding them now, the majority having gone off to assist in holding the remaining Deatheaters back.

"She's gone, Draco. She died this morning. I felt her whither away inside me, felt her resolve weaken and perish like the filthy Mudblood that she is." Her voice was shaking, the tremble in her hand having moved up into her arm.

"No, you see that's where you're wrong, my Lord. You see, while I watched Hermione slowly become the perfect Deatheater, while I watched her dissolve into what I thought was defeat, she waited, and saved her strength. While you twisted her and mangled her into the perfect vessel, the perfect being of power for you to control, she let you. And **that** is why you're losing your control now. I'm sorry my Lord, but the reign of the Dark has come to an end. And this time, we're going to make sure you stay gone." Draco raised his wand, directed it straight her Hermione's chest. He watched as the tremble in her arm became a convulsion that wracked her whole body. "Harry, be ready."

"I'm ready, Draco."

* * *

Hermione looked between Harry and Draco, the resolve within her crumbling at the sight of their conjoined power. A nervous cackle escaped her lips. "You'll see, Draco. You'll be sorry!" Their wands began to glow, white hot light piercing her heart and burning its way through her body. All she could see was the white light that enveloped her as their silent spell grew. The Order added their power, each member pooling their energy into their wand, the white light intensifying with each passing moment. She screamed in agony, her eye meeting Draco's before she collapsed before them.

* * *

Draco watched as those who had disappeared to fight the Deatheaters joined the remaining Order members. So few had returned. Still, their power overwhelmed Voldemort, their pure, white light piercing his blackened soul, encasing it and ripping it apart. Just as the spell ended, Hermione's eyes met his and he saw there what he hadn't seen in years. And then she was on the ground, a crumpled mass of limbs and defeat. "Stop!" He dropped his wand as he ran to her, pulling her into his arms and cradling her there. She was breathing, her eyes searching, hands clutching his dirty shirt with hardly any strength at all. He found himself smiling. "Hermione."

She stopped shaking slowly, her eyes finding his and holding them. Gradually, her hand moved over his face, lightly tracing his cheeks and jaw. "I love you." His hand found hers on his cheek and gripped it hard, holding it like a lifeline. But then she wasn't looking at him anymore; her hand wasn't holding his anymore. Sluggishly, her eyes slid closed, her hand falling limply by her side. He felt something inside him break.

"No." He shook her. "No, no, no, no, no. Come on." He shook her again, cupped her face in his hands, hauled her against him, cradling her lifeless form in his arms. "Hermione! Come on, Hermione." He pressed his lips against hers. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me." A hand on his shoulder made him freeze.

"It's alright, Draco. Just breathe." Draco gripped Ron's hand in his, holding it on his shoulder while his tears overflowed, dropping heavily onto Hermione's cheeks. He watched at Ron reached out and touched Hermione's cheek, wiping away the tears, letting his hand rest on her neck. Draco let his eyes slide shut. He tried to breathe.

"Wait." Ron's hand left his shoulder. Draco's eyes snapped open. He watched Ron press his fingers into Hermione neck, feeling for her pulse. Then Ron's eyes met his, a bubble of joyous laughter ringing from his mouth. "She's alive." He clapped his hand on Draco's shoulder. "She's alive."

* * *

_Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'm sooooooooooooo sorry for not having posted sooner! Work has been crazy busy and I just haven't had the time. But, I'm glad to have finally gotten this chapter out. (Any thoughts on it by the way?)_

_For a while, I thought this was going to be the last chapter, but I guess not. I do know that the next chapter will be. I have a few other stories that need attention, and I know I have a lot of requests for a second chapter of "__**The Assignment**__" so I should probably get on that. Anyway, please review and let me know what you thought! I know I thought that the 'battle' part of this chapter was a little rushed, but I really didn't know how else to write it. So please, please, please tell me what you think! I'm dying to know!_

_-The Crimson Sheath._


	9. Memoir

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_3__rd__ Year_

As he rounded the corner he sank against the wall, the rough stones scraping his back as he did so. His breath came so heavily he thought he couldn't breathe. He could feel the tears threatening to break free, could feel the ache in his chest as though he'd been stabbed through the heart. Shaking his head he tried to stand, only to find his legs refused to move. Rubbing his eyes he waited, silently, for the moments to pass, for the pain in his heart to recede, diminish into the night. After what seemed like hours later, he found his footing and turned back down the corridor from which he'd come…and froze.

She was still there, hands moving numbly over her thighs, eyes staring blankly across the hall, tears falling silently down her cheeks. Suddenly, the pain in his chest was back, the rush of emotion hurtling him into darkness. He had to fight the urge to run to her, apologize for everything and beg forgiveness. He had to fight the urge to scream at her and berate her and tell her she was worthless, because the truth was he'd never thought more of her than he did now. He wished more than anything that he could be her friend, someone she could trust as much as she trusted Potter and Weasley. There was so much he longed to tell her, longed to confide in her. And yet, every time he found her standing before him, fire blazing in her golden eyes, all he could do was call her names and scream at her. He hated it. Even now, as he watched her mutely weep over words he had uttered, he wished he had never spoken them in the first place.

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_4__th__ Year – Yule Ball_

She was screaming at him. At least it looked that way. He didn't want to her scream when he touched her. He didn't want her to be revolted at the very sight of him. So he did the only thing he could think of. Their hands still entwined, he yanked her forward, gripping her hard against his chest, cupping the nape of her neck and refusing to let go.

Her hand tore out of his as she tried to push him away, tried to be free of him. His hand freed from her grip, he let his arm wrap around her, holding her against him hard. "Let go of me! Get off me!" Her hands were shoving against him, beating into his sides as she raged.

"It's okay. Calm down. Just breathe." He started taking deep breaths, pulling her against him tighter, harder, stronger. "Just breathe." At first she fought him, at first she raged. Then, after what seemed like hours, and was probably only minutes, her hands stopped fighting and were instead gripping him as hard as he was gripping her. Her breathing had slowed, her body no longer convulsing in his arms. Her face turned into his neck and she remained there, unmoving.

"Why do we hate each other?"

Her voice was so small and so delicate in his ear that he barely heard it. However, when it did register in his mind what she had said, he was nearly floored. He didn't answer for a while, his thoughts jumping around in his head, trying to find reason. When he finally did speak, the words were heavy in his mouth. "Because we don't know how to love each other." It was then that she pulled away, and he let her. He couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't be condemned by the fire held within them. But her hand touched his cheek, turning his eyes up to meet hers. What he saw there was not anger, nor fear or hatred. What he saw there was a great sadness.

She stood and offered him her hand, which he hesitantly took. They walked in silence, hand-in-hand to Gryffindor Tower, where they stopped before the portrait, and just stood there. "Thank you." He nearly jumped as his head snapped towards her. She was smiling at him. He smirked back.

"Yeah, well don't count on it." Shrugging slightly he turned to walk away, letting her hand slip gently from his as the distance between them stretched. He didn't look back.

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_5__th__ Year_

He stormed away from her, the taste of her lips on his refusing to leave his mouth. The smell of her hair stained his clothes, his senses. He couldn't get rid of her. It was infuriating. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. He wasn't supposed to want her like this. And now he hated himself for what he'd said. He hated himself for what he allowed her to do to him. He hated her for what she unknowingly brought out in him. She riled him, irked him to no end. And he hated it.

Rounding corner after corner he found himself standing in front of the Library. How he ended up there and why he didn't really know. Sighing deeply, he stepped inside and moved to a dark corner behind the Restricted Section and seated himself in a large armchair. It was then that he noticed the arrow-slit window beside him in the wall. Only the moon was visible through the narrow opening. He watched it until his eyes began to bow, eyelashes dusting his cheeks when he blinked. It was then that he finally let his tears fall. As he shut his eyes, they escaped the safety of his eyes and ran down his cheeks. This was how he remained through the night until the first light of dawn touched his skin though the arrow-slit. Only then did he admit to himself that he was wrong. That all his life, he'd been horribly, horrifically, wrong.

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_6__th__ Year – Hospital Wing_

The sun was bright on her face when she woke. Something was warm in her hands, something warm against her chest. Opening her eyes slowly, she was surprised to find herself in the Hospital Wing, and was even more surprised to find Draco Malfoy curled in her arms. Hermione almost jumped from the bed when she saw his face. But then she saw his hands twined firmly in her own, saw the serene and peaceful look displayed in his features. She smiled, remembering the previous night, remembering how safe she had felt beside him. Watching him sleep Hermione felt a sudden calm overwhelm her, flood her senses. It was unlike anything she'd felt before. She smiled softly and moved to disentangle herself, only to find that when she moved, his iron grip tightened, holding her in place.

It was then that Hermione Granger did something she had not expected to do. She bent forward and pressed her lips to his cheek, the kiss gentle and soft. He stirred, shaking away and knocking his head against her chin. His hand relinquished hers and grabbed his head, groaning as he did so. Her hands now freed, Hermione rubbed her chin gingerly, almost laughing at the occurrence. Her joviality was interrupted however by a tired, graveled voice. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her eyes shot up to his, fury flaming within her.

"I'll go." She stood sharply and moved to leave. His hand on her wrist made her freeze.

"That's not what I meant." His voice was delicate, gentle and welcoming. She turned to face him again. "I just wanted to know _why _you were here in the first place? I mean, I'm not exactly everyone's favorite person this year." His smirk touched his lips slightly, but was lost in the sadness of his voice. Hermione sat on the bed beside him, letting her hand travel up his wrist to run smoothly over the Mark on his arm.

"I don't know really." Her eyes shifted to his and back to his arm, unsure of where to look. "I just ended up here last night." Shaking her head she let her hand slip away from his arm and fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. His hand covered hers.

"Thank you." She met his eyes. "For everything last night."

"You're welcome." Neither one smiled, but they were both instantly happy. However, what Draco said next shocked Hermione to her core.

"Kiss me." He was leaning towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. She was tempted to close the distance between them, but something held her back.

"We shouldn't." His eyes turned cold for a moment. "At least, not here. Not now." A slight smile touched his lips.

"When?"

"I don't know." Her hand moved of its own volition to his cheek, her palm pressing on his jaw, caressing down his neck. "I don't know." Sadness filled her then. A realization that there might not be another time.

His hand grasped hers, held it against his cheek. "Please don't go." He felt her pulling away, felt her shying away from what they felt. "Please." Pulling her hand forward, he propelled her into his arms, their lips meeting in a frenzy of will and sorrow. He held her to him, against him, as her arms wound around him, fingers running through his hair, splaying over his shoulders. When they finally broke away, he didn't let her go, he remained pressed against her, his forehead touching hers, their breathing heavy. "I don't want you to go anywhere without me. I don't want to be without you."

Their breathing slowed, and Hermione's mind found the first glimmer of clearness it'd had in months. "Why?" She pulled back, letting her hands drop between them. Her eyes met his and questioned his motives, questioned his reasoning. "Why do you want me?" His arms fell away from her, shock plastered on his face. "Tell my why Draco."

"Don't you understand?" He ran his fingers into her hair, pulling her forwards. "I thought you always understood! I thought that was why you kept coming back to me!" She tore out of his reach, standing before him beside the bed.

"Understand what? Of course I never understood! I still don't understand!" Her feet began to pace the length of the bed and back. "What exactly and I meant to understand, Malfoy? I don't understand why you kiss me the way you do, or why I feel safer than I ever have in your arms. I don't understand why I let you hold me, let you touch me, let you kiss me. I don't understand why I care so much about you, why I want you to touch me, kiss me, hold me…why I want you to love me." Tears streamed down her cheeks, her arms crossing over her chest defensively. "I want all of this, Draco. I want you more than I've wanted anything. I just…I just don't know if this means as much to you as it does to me. And I want to know why?"

Draco was silent for a long time, her words ringing light church bells in his ears. Truthfully, he loved the way she laughed, loved how intelligent she was, how brilliant all her spells were. Truthfully, he loved watching her smile, watching the way she tossed her hair when she was frustrated. He loved the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He loved the smell of her hair, the pureness in her eyes. The truth was that he loved her. And the horrid fact was that he could never tell her. "Hermione," he stood, placing his hands on her arms, "do you think I know any of this better than you do?" She looked up at him, her eyes searching for an answer he could never give her.

"I'm not asking you to tell me your deepest secrets, Draco. All I'm asking is for a little assurance that you're not just using me, that you're not just taking all of this back to your Slytherin friends and laughing about me behind my back." She breathed hard. "Is that so much to ask?"

"No, it isn't." Pulling her into his arms, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, and pulled away, letting his arms fall away as he lay back in the bed. She remained where she was, almost glaring at him, and yet not. He looked away from her, unable to bear the sorrow in her eyes. "No matter what you ask me, Hermione, you're searching for answers I can never give." He felt something break inside him. "No matter how I feel, no matter what I want, I can never give you what you're looking for." He heard her gasp softly behind him, felt her tears start anew. He turned back to her, watched as she backed away from the bed slowly, unsure of what she was hearing. "As much as I want you, want _this_, I can never have it." She was shaking her head now, her breath coming in stressed, harsh gasps. He got up again, moved towards her. She backed away faster. "All I can give you are stolen moments, stolen caresses in the dark." He moved faster, caught her arms in his hands, pulled her to him. "I can never love you the way you want me to." She shook her head hard, trying to pull away, trying to be free of him. "No, you have to listen!" He grabbed her chin, thrusting face up. "Look at me." Her eyes remained closed, her tears falling softly down her cheeks. "Hermione, please look at me." Slowly, her eyes opened to meet his. "I can love you here, in the dark, away from everything outside these walls." He pressed her hand to his chest. "I can love you here, in my heart, my soul, but never outside in the open." He could feel his own tears begin to pour, could feel his own heart breaking as he spoke. "I can love you all my life, every moment of every day. I can love you with all of my heart." A violent sob echoed through the Hospital Wing. He cupped her face in his hands, drawing her closer, his tears matching her own. "I will love you for as long as I live, Hermione Granger, but I can never have you." With those final words, he brought his lips to hers, branding her, bruising her flesh with his force. Her hands fisted in his shirt, holding him against her, kissing him back with all she had.

All too soon, the moment was over, their fire dimming. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and ragged. "I love you, Draco." And then she was gone. Tearing from his arms, she fled the Hospital Wing and ran for Gryffindor Tower. As soon as she reached the safety of the abandoned Girl's Dorm, she threw herself into her bed and sobbed into her pillow, knowing that she would never feel Draco Malfoy's love for her ever again.

* * *

The wind was howling around him as he trudged through the woods. He had the nagging sense that he was being followed, that someone, or something, was shadowing his every move. Speeding up his pace, he rounded on a tree, taking refuge in the protection it provided. Moments later, footsteps could be heard, softly crunching in the leaves of the forest floor. He drew he wand, the words of a spell forming on his lips. They were coming closer; soon they would be on the other side of the tree. Then they rounded the tree. He grabbed them quickly, wand pressing harshly into their neck. "Who the hell are you?" Their hands flew up in surrender, their body relaxing, not fighting him.

"Let me go and I'll show you! I'm not going to attack you!" He reached into his robes. "Here, take my wand!" He pulled out his wand and threw it to the ground. "I swear!"

With hesitant fingers, Ron released him and backed away, scooping up the spare wand as he did so. "Take off your hood." The man's hands slowly moved to his hood, gingerly pulling it back from his face. What Ron saw then made him want to vomit. "Malfoy! How the hell am I supposed to trust you? Hell, I'm halfway to hexing you out of my sight right now, unless you give me some fucking answers."

Malfoy raised his hands, trying to inspire some form of trust between them. When he spoke, his voice was steady and smooth, although it lacked its normal Malfoy-swag. "Look, I know you don't trust me, hell, you hate me. But I need you, just this once, to believe that there are things I care more about than myself. Can you do that for me?"

"No! But I'll listen to you, if that's all you're after." Ron held up Malfoy's wand. "But you're not getting this back until I'm long gone."

"Fine with me. I'm not going to need it." He moved to a fallen tree and leaned against it, appearing relaxed and almost defeated. "I need to tell you a few things, most of which you're not going to like, all of which you're not going to believe, and hopefully, some of which you'll understand and try to see my way." He paused, trying to think where to begin.

"Get on with it." Ron was growing impatient.

"I'm just thinking. I don't really know where to start. This all happened at school, mind you." He tapped his chin, his brain ticking.

"Take your time, it's not like we're in a war or anything." Ron smirked, or at least what he thought was a smirk, and Malfoy grinned.

"Funny. Who would've thought that Weasley was funny?" It was odd to see a Malfoy grinning, but Ron let it pass. When Malfoy finally did start, his voice was heavy, and suddenly very serious. "Alright. I guess you could say it started in 3rd Year…"

Hours later, Ron was sitting on the tree beside Malfoy, fingers pressed deep into his temples, trying to comprehend what he'd just heard. Malfoy sat silently, reverently, just waiting for Ron to speak. "So let me get this straight, you're in love with my best friend, and she's in love with you, and you can't be with her because of the war, and…and you're actually buying all that bullshit?" Malfoy's head shot up, shock plastered to his features.

"What?" He stood up and faced Ron. Ron was quick to join him.

"I mean, sure, most of that was pretty unbelievable, but if any of that were to be true, then the two of you are the biggest idiots I've ever met!" He turned away from Malfoy and began to pace. "Which is strange considering the two of you are the smartest people I know."

"Hey, just because we're smart doesn't make us…smart…" Malfoy was sounding more and more defeated by his own point every second.

"Right, cause that statement made you sound sooo intelligent." Ron rubbed his face with his hands. "Alright, alright. So why are you telling me all of this now? I mean, from what I understand of the last time you spoke, you told her you could never tell anyone about the two of you. I mean, you practically told her that it was all just a lie to you! So why are you telling me?"

"No, it wasn't a lie! I love her! I'll always love her—"

"But by telling her that you could only love her in the dark pretty much just said that you liked screwing around with her, but that she was never the girl you'd bring home to the family. Which I'm happy for, because face it, your family sucks. But seriously, how could you not know that was what you were telling her?" Ron crossed his arms and stared Malfoy down.

"I…you know what!" He pointed his finger angrily at Ron. "It seemed right at the time." He collapsed back onto the tree, holding his head in his hands.

"So why don't you find her and tell her that?" Ron joined him on the tree and tried to understand.

"You don't understand Weasley. I'm telling you all of this because I _can't_ tell her. I can't be with her. I can't hold her, or kiss her, or touch her! I can't do any of that because of my stupid family! I'm telling you this because I want you to love her instead of me." He met Ron's eyes, holding them as his meaning sunk in.

"What?" Ron's voice jumped up a notch. "Are you kidding me? You want me to love her, take care of her, kiss her, hold her, just for you? You've got to be joking." He tried to laugh, but it came out strangled.

"No, I'm not asking you to do it for me. I'm asking you to do it for her. She loves you; I know she does. But she's holding herself apart from you, and from Potter. I've been following the three of you since you set off, it's been my task to know exactly where Potter was at all times—"

"Wait, wait, wait. You've been following us, on Voldemort's orders?" Ron's voice dropped with his anger, his rage boiling to the surface.

"Yes. But every time I send in an update, I always tell him that you're on the other side of the continent. Trust me, they have no idea where you all are." Malfoy gripped Ron's shoulder, and suddenly there was a bond between them. "Look, you need to go back to them. You need to go back to Hermione, you need to tell her how much you love her, and you need to mean it." Ron nodded numbly, trying to get a grasp of what he was about to do. "I'll take you back to them, but you can't tell them about me. I'll cast a spell on you if I have to, Weasley. I'm not above that."

"Right, like you'd ever get the chance." They laughed nervously before standing together and moving away from the fallen tree. "Hey Malfoy?"

"Hmm?"

"Here, you're going to need this." Ron stretched out his hand, offering Malfoy's wand back. "Besides, if I don't trust you now, then how can I do what you need, right?" He smiled, waiting for Malfoy to take back his wand. When his hand closed over the wand, Malfoy looked at peace, as if he could trust himself as well as Ron.

"You know you're going to have to hate me from now on, right? No matter what happens, you're going to have to pretend that this never happened. You have to make everyone believe that you'd like nothing better than to kill me."

"That won't be so hard. I mean, you did steal my kiss from Hermione, so I guess all I'll have to do is think of that."

"You really do love her, don't you Weasley?"

"With all my heart. You never needed to ask me, Malfoy. But it's good to know now that you're not all bad. At least now when it comes down to a fight, I won't have to kill you."

They walked on in silence until they reached a safe apparation point. Malfoy spoke. "Take this." He handed him a small, insignificant stone. "It's a portkey. It only has one use in it, and it'll take you directly to where they are, at least, within a few meters or so. You won't be able to get through their wards, but you'll be close enough that they'll see you, so you'll be fine." Ron took the stone and held it tight. Before he was transported away, he thanked Malfoy for everything, even the bad shit that had happened, and then he was gone.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat in his study at Malfoy Manor. In a few days he would leave on one of the most important missions he'd yet been assigned. The Dark Lord had entrusted him with a great task, a great weight. Far in the north, guarded by Frost Demons and Ice Elementals, there lay a large cavern. According to legend, there lay buried there a great treasure, a powerful weapon. It was Draco's task to travel to the north, accompanied by Bellatrix and Blaise, to retrieve this artifact. According to the Dark Lord, it was a weapon that would change the tide, a weapon that would bring an end to the war, leaving Harry Potter and his followers as dust. At the moment, he was going over their journey-plans. He was pouring over a map of the north, trying to determine the best course, the best way in which to ensure that there would be minimal contact between their party and the monsters that inhabited these abandoned lands.

"Draco, are you ever going to give it a rest?" Blaise lounged on the sofa by the window as Draco worked. "We've been over these plans for weeks! They don't need anymore tweaking, anymore adjustments. We've done all we can. All that's left is to go on this journey, and make it count. It's our duty."

"Blaise, why don't you go shove your dick in something, and let me concentrate? You may feel that we've done all the planning we can, but until I'm absolutely positive that there is no other course of action, I'm going to continue to plan. So if you please?" He gestured to the door of his study and waited for Blaise to leave.

"Fine, fine. I'll leave you to your brooding." Blaise stood and sauntered towards the door. "Just so you know, as one friend to another, you might find you're a bit less moody if you got some action, if you know what I'm saying." Waggling his eyebrows and cackling horridly, Blaise swaggered out of Draco's study and shut the door pointedly behind him.

Draco leaned back in his chair and threw his quill down, exhaling heavily as he did so. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Hermione. He shook his head and the memory of his lips on his faded, but he was still left with the taste of her on his tongue.

* * *

_St. Mungos_

_Present Day_

"Have you been home yet, at all?" Draco jumped at Harry's voice intruding on his solitude. He tired to move, only to find that his back had frozen in place due to the uncomfortable chair he'd been sleeping in for the past month.

"No, and I don't intend to until I can take my wife with me." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and attempted to stand again. He had more success this time, seeing as he actually got out of the chair, but walking was a pain. Making his way over to her bed, he let his eyes trace over her face. "She still hasn't woken up, and I'm not leaving her until she does." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took her limp hand in his, relief flooding him at its warmth.

"Draco, you really need to sleep in a bed at some point. That chair is going to kill you eventually." Harry joined him on the other side, gripping Hermione's wrist and sighing. "But I can't make you leave." Just then the door opened and two orderlies moved into the room. "They, however, can."

"Mr. Malfoy, its time for you to leave. Visiting hours are over." Crossing his arms, the bulkier of the two planted his feet as he spoke.

"No. I'm sorry, but she is my wife and I'm not leaving until I know she's going to be alright." He grasped Hermione's hand, holding it like an anchor. Then Dr. Puddleworth joined them.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, I'm glad the two of you are here." She gestured to the orderlies, and they silently left the room, closing the door behind them. Dr. Puddleworth moved to the edge of the bed and took in a deep breath. "Mr. Malfoy, I understand that this is very difficult for you, and I know that you want to be with her whenever you can, that you want to be here when she wakes up." Draco nodded. "Mr. Malfoy, it's time for you to prepare for the time when she won't wake up. We've tried everything, and we just aren't seeing the results we should be seeing at this time. In Muggle hospitals, they give their coma patients four months before they begin to talk seriously about the chances of them never waking up. However, with our obvious magical abilities and advantages, at this point, it is highly unlikely that Mrs. Malfoy will ever wake up. I'm sorry." Shaking her head slightly, Dr. Puddleworth left the room, and the door swung shut silently behind her.

Draco turned dumfounded eyes on Harry, who showed signs of bursting into tears. But then he met Draco's eyes and inhaled sharply. "Draco, come stay at Grimmauld Place with me and Ginny. Spend some time away from this place. She's going to be here for a while. Ginny and I would be happy to have you." He tried a smile, but it came out more as a weak grimace than anything else. Draco smiled back.

"Thanks Harry. I'd love to come stay with you." Swallowing his grief, Draco stood, kissed Hermione's hand, and walked out with Harry. The sound of the door closing behind him resounded with a finality he was terrified to face.

* * *

It was Christmas, and Draco was miserable. He was at Grimmauld Place with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Neville, Luna, Seamus, the Weasley Twins, Dean, the Patil sisters, and what seemed like everyone that ever was a Gryffindor. He admitted, only to himself, that he got along well with Harry, Ginny and Ron, but everyone else just seemed to irk him horridly. Fred and George were abysmal at trying to cheer him up, and Seamus was just too bloody…Irish. Not that Draco had a problem with the Irish…but all their worst qualities seemed to be embodied in Seamus Finnegan. On top of all that, it had been six months since he'd been to St. Mungos to see Hermione. After he'd left that last time, he just couldn't bear to go back. He knew that Ron went and Ginny went, and Harry stopped there every day after work, but Draco just couldn't bring himself to step into that room. He couldn't bear to be near her, to be within reach of her, and not have her holding him in her arms.

"Draco! It's Christmas! Be happy!"

"Shut it, Fred!"

"I'm not Fred! I'm George!"

"You know you both look alike!" Draco took another swill of his Firewhiskey and stormed up to his room. He noticed Harry watch him leave, but tried not to let it bother him. It seemed that Harry Potter still knew everything that was going on around him.

When he reached his room, a room he was informed originally belonged to his cousin Regulus at some point in time, and slammed the door behind him. Collapsing into his bed, he tried to think of anything other than Hermione. Just when he was getting on to thinking about Christmas, and presents and how much he used to love the holiday, there was a rapping at his window. He was off the bed and at said window in an instant. There, sitting on the sill, was a great black owl. In its beak was a formally stamped envelope. An envelope bearing the seal of St. Mungos. "Harry!" Grabbing the letter, Draco tore out of his room and down the stairs into the bustling kitchen. Harry saw him hurtle down the stairs and grabbed his arms as he burst into the kitchen. "Harry! She's…she…" The room fell silent, waiting for him to speak. No one needed to know who he was talking about; no one needed a name to put with his words. They all knew and cared for Hermione, and they all wanted to know what he was dying to tell them.

"Draco, calm down. What's happened?" Harry's voice was steady, a pillar of strength in the growing storm of his heart.

"She's awake." Harry smiled, and then turned to the assembled guests. "Everybody out! The party is over! As you can imagine, we have a few things that need taking care of." Before Draco could blink, the entire house empty. Harry turned back to him. "Are you okay?"

"Harry, she's awake. Of course I'm okay!" Draco ran through the kitchen, grabbed his coat and had apparated to St. Mungos before anyone could say another word. He found the nurses desk in no time and was asking where his wife had been moved. Dr. Puddleworth touched his arm, startling him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I see you got our letter." She smiled warmly at him.

"Yes, where is she?" He smiled back, his excitement and joy overflowing. But Dr. Puddleworth's face turned grave.

"Mr. Malfoy, there are a few things I need to explain to you before you can see her." She took his arm and guided him down the hall, stopping just outside one of the private rooms. "She woke up last night, and we wanted to give her a day to adjust. She's fully lucid now, and completely healthy—"

"Then what is it exactly that I don't understand? I'm going in to see my wife now, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." He stormed past her, ignoring her protests as he shut the door behind him. As he moved away from the door and further into the room, he saw her lying in her bed by the window. She was staring out over London, her hands fidgeting on her stomach. He moved quietly to her, standing beside the bed, waiting for her to notice he was there. When she didn't, he sat in the chair by the bed and waited, watching her. Now, after all this time, wanting to hold her, kiss her, touch her, see her smile, all he could do was watch her breath, watch her live. Then her eyes drifted closed and he watched her sleeping, watched her as she rested blissfully. There was a knock at the door. Draco turned his head and saw Harry, Ginny and Ron come in.

"I thought she was awake?" Ron's voice was laced with concern.

"She is. Well, she was a few moments ago. I think she just fell asleep." He smiled at them. "I haven't talked to her yet. After all this time, all I want to do is watch her." Harry moved closer.

"She's awake now, Draco. She's alive, and awake, and that's all that matters.

"Harry? Is that you?" Draco's head snapped towards the bed. Her golden eyes were locked on Harry, a soft smile shaping her lips.

"Hermione! We're so happy you're awake!" They rushed to her, sitting around her, hugging her, laughing with her. Draco held back, not wanting to share any of his time with them. He watched, and he waited. And then Ron spoke.

"And you know who's here right? He's just hanging back, probably because he wants you all to himself, but he's here." He grinned and looked goofily at Draco.

"Who's here, Ron? Who else would be here?" She looked confusedly around the room, her eyes finally landing on Draco. "Harry, what's Malfoy doing here?"

Draco's heart sank. "What do you mean Hermione? Why wouldn't he be here?" Harry's voice was confused. But Draco understood all too well.

"It's fine Harry. It's understandable that she wouldn't understand." He looked Hermione in the eyes. "I've been a double agent for the past few years. I don't know if Dr. Puddleworth told you already, but you've been in a coma for the past seven months. What's the last thing you remember?" He moved closer to the bed, willing her to see him as he was.

"I remember…" her lip twisted as she thought, "I remember getting engaged to Ron, and I remember the dinner party, and the morning after…but, after that it's mostly fuzzy." She looked at Ron and took his hand. How much have I missed?"

Harry's face fell, and a grave tone crashed around them. "Hermione, it's been three years since that dinner. And you're not—"

"Not up to speed yet. Harry, can I talk to you for a moment outside?" Draco scowled at Harry before turning and leaving the room. When Harry joined him, he was met with a stern glare.

"Draco, what do you think you're doing?" He placed his hands on his hips and pouted.

"Harry, she doesn't remember anything. And she doesn't need to. The life we share was not a happy one. I will always love her, and I will always be there for her, but she doesn't need to know about that life. Our wedding was not happy, or marriage was not full of love and life. Our life together was one of misery, and duty, and obedience to a Dark Lord that tormented our lives every day. It was because of that life that she became what we fought against. It was because of the life that she's where she is now. I can't bring that back. I'm not going to sacrifice her happiness just so that I can have her back." He sighed deeply, looking through the window in the door and watching her laugh at something Ginny said. "She deserves a happy, normal life. That is something I can't give her. Not with the past we've already shared." He looked Harry in the eye. "You can never tell her about me. She can know that I helped in the war, and that we became friends, but I don't want her knowing that we were married. I don't want her to know that we shared anything more than friendship. Is that clear?"

"Draco—"

"No! Harry, if you've ever thought of me as a friend, you'll do this for me. You won't tell her about me. Please. Let her be happy. Let her marry Ron, and let her have the life she so desperately wants." He held Harry's gaze until Harry nodded, and then he turned away. "I'll move out of Grimmauld Place tonight. You won't see me there again."

With those final words, Draco walked out of St. Mungos and apparated to Grimmauld Place. Once there, he packed his things and apparated to Malfoy Manor. It was time for him to rebuild the Manor to its former glory. It was time to begin anew.

* * *

Hermione and Ron sat in garden with Ginny and Harry at the Burrow. Hermione was trying to read a book about love and war, and all things dramatic, but something kept nagging in the back of her mind. It had been a year since she'd seen Draco Malfoy, and yet every time a door creaked, or a window whistled, she found herself longing that it was some sign of his arrival. She found herself desperately wanting him to walk back into her life. She did not know why, but everyday she went without him etched small cracks in her heart, growing steadily with each passing hour. Even now, as she relaxed with her friends, peacefully in the lovely tended gardens of Mrs. Weasley, she felt a hole in her heart. She felt as if something, intangible and fantastical, were missing.

"Hermione? Are you hungry?"

"No, Ginny. Thank you." She smiled as Ginny nodded and moved into the house. Ron looked up from his Daily Prophet and eyed her with concern.

"Are you alright? You look like you're not entirely here." He was smiling, but she knew that something lay hidden beneath his calm exterior. Harry looked up from his Auror reports, his expression guarded. Hermione could tell they were hiding something.

"What aren't you two telling me?" They shared a glance, shifting and uneasy beneath Hermione's gaze. "What are you hiding?" She snapped her book shut and stood.

"Look, Hermione, there are some things that I…that _we_ feel you're better off not knowing. Many things have happ—"

"I don't care, Harry! I need to know what I've done! You all walk on eggshells around me, like I'm going to snap and kill you! I'm sick of it!" She threw her book down and began to pace. The door to the Burrow's kitchen slammed and Hermione's head whipped around at the sound. It was only Ginny, running to see what the matter was.

"Hermione you don't understand!" Her eyes turned to Ron. He stood and gripped her shoulders. "What happened, what you did wasn't your fault. You did the best you could, given your situation. We were told by—"

"Ron!" Harry's voice pierced the air.

"We were told that you suffered every day. Maybe not physically, but mentally. Your battles were not fought with magic, or violence. We now know that you became what was necessary in order to survive. No one could ask any more of you." Ron kissed her forehead and went back into the house. Harry touched her arm as he too followed. Ginny remained.

"I'm so lost, Ginny. I feel like I don't know who I am anymore." Turning away, Hermione looked at a particularly nasty looking garden gnome as it tried to pull itself from a gopher hole. "And then there's the mark on my back. An everlasting symbol of the hatred I was a part of." Ginny touched her arm, offering what little comfort she could. "I have to know, Ginny." Her eyes pleaded as she spoke. "I have to know what's happened to me."

Ginny was silent for a while, her thoughts intermingling to form a coherent answer. When she did speak, her voice was quiet, hushed as if she was afraid someone might hear. "If you want answers Hermione, I suggest you talk to your husband." Hermione's eyes widened.

"My husband?" Her voice shook, her mind fighting with her heart.

"Draco Malfoy."

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_ Okay, so that took a substantially shorter time to write than any other chapter…which I find exceedingly strange. Anyway, what're your thoughts, comments, insults, praises, desires? (scratch that last one) I feel like most of this chapter doesn't meld well with the others. And I know I said that this was supposed to be the last chapter, but what can I say? More needs to be written, and so I am helpless to the drive. I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter. I must say that I feel it to be my most choppy work ever, and not purposefully either. Anyhoo, please let me know what you think, cause I really am dying to know your input on Hermione finding out that Draco's her hubby…so please review! (plus, I'm kinda starved for attention…I need the ego boost)_

_-The Crimson Sheath_


	10. I Remember

The Manor was cold at this time of year. Well, in Draco's opinion, the Manor had always been cold, but now, at this particular time, it seemed that the whole house drafted with a freezing wind that made his skin crawl. So, it had come to pass that he had purchased a small country cottage that he attended more often than the Manor. It seemed that the weather there was more amiable, and he liked the cozy aspect of the small house. He found it suited him more than the Manor ever had. And so it was, after a period of time where he traveled from one place of residence to another, that Draco Malfoy closed up the Manor for good, blanketing the furniture and sealing the gates, and moved permanently to the cottage. It was there, however that he received a letter.

_Dearest Draco,_

_ I know that in the past we had our differences, and that we both followed Lord Voldemort blindly into the darkness. However, I feel that through the years that I have known and trusted you that we were at some point friends. It would mean a great deal to me, and my husband, if you would pay us a visit in London. We would be more than happy to meet you in Hogsmeade, at the Three Broomsticks, if you'd like. I know that you probably want nothing more to do with us, what with our colorful history, but I would so very much like to rekindle our friendship, that we may benefit mutually from a positive relationship. A relationship unhindered by the presence of a man of such evil as was the Lord Voldemort._

_ Sincerely Yours,_

_ Pansy Zabini_

The owl that had delivered the letter hooted impatiently by the window and waited for a reply. Scribbling out a confirmation and agreeing to the Three Broomsticks at noon the following Friday. That gave him a week to figure out what exactly he had to talk about with Blaise and Pansy.

* * *

Friday came along much quicker than he anticipated, and when Draco found himself seated in the Three Broomsticks, so close to Hogwarts, he realized that he wanted nothing more than to turn and run as fast as he could in the other direction. However, this was exactly the moment that Blaise and Pansy walked casually into the pub and spotted him. Pansy smiled, gracious and warm, moving towards him intent on wrapping him in a tight hug. He stood to greet her, and when she did hug him, he realized that coming here, meeting with old friends, was all he could ever have asked for.

"Draco, thank you so much for coming." Another bright smile. "I've been so worried about you! Especially after what happened with…well…and now you're not at the Manor anymore! That little cottage can't be big enough for you. Really Draco, the Manor is much more suited for you." She sat beside him as Blaise took the seat opposite.

"Pansy, dearest, let the man alone. He's living his own life, and there's nothing we can do to change his mind." He looked pointedly at Draco. "Am I right?"

"Of course Blaise. It's really wonderful to see you both again. It's been too long. What have you been doing?" He smiled at them, hoping it didn't appear forced, and was rewarded when Pansy began to prattle on about Blaise's business, and how it was taking the Muggle world by storm. This was how the rest of the afternoon progressed. Blaise barely said a word, only joining the conversation to calm his wife, and Draco merely nodded, smiled, and took in all the information Pansy gave him. Many hours and quite a few butterbeers and firewhiskeys later, Pansy excused herself to the restroom, and Blaise pounced.

"What the hell happened to you?" Draco almost choked on his drink.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You've practically disappeared. What happened to you? I would have a least thought that you would get Malfoy Industries back on track, or even follow your dreams of becoming an Auror, but no, you've hidden yourself away from the world. It's as if you're running from her, Draco. She's not even chasing you and you're running from her." Blaise shook his head. "You're a disgrace Draco. The public world has completely forgotten about you—"

"Good. I don't want her to have to remember any of it. She deserves better than that." He sipped his drink and stood. "Tell Pansy I said goodbye. I really should be going home. Goodnight Blaise." Wrapping his coat firmly around him, he dropped a few coins on the table and left.

* * *

"How could you have told her? Why did you tell her? Do you realize what could happen if _he_ finds out she knows now?" Harry'd been pacing in the kitchen at the Burrow for the better part of an hour, and it was getting on Ginny's nerves.

"She deserves to know Harry! I never made any promise to Malfoy about not telling her, that was your fuck-up! We should have told her the day she woke up, the moment she asked why Malfoy was even there! They are still married Harry, and he still loves her. She needs to know that." Standing by the stairs, Ginny looked at her husband. He'd stopped pacing, finally, and was now leaning against the counter, glaring intently at the floor. Ron hadn't spoken a word.

"I know you didn't make any promises Gin, but if he wanted her to know, he would've told her. He'd be here every day drilling it into her head." He laughed at the notion. "I'd bet you he'd be the old Malfoy, the one we knew in school. The Malfoy who would never stop teasing you, would never stop bullying you, until you gave up trying to reason with him and let him go with it. That's when he'd stop, right when you'd gotten used to it." They all chuckled at the memory. Then Ron spoke, his voice haggard.

"You know, he was the one that helped me find you. When we were looking for the Horcuxes, he found me in the woods and gave me right talking to." Harry and Ginny blanched. "I'm serious. He told me everything, things you guys don't even know."

"Like what?" Harry was hooked.

"Like what happened between him and Hermione at Hogwarts. Apparently, all this started in Third Year. At least, that's what Malfoy said. Apparently, he's been in love with her since she jammed her fist into his jaw. You didn't seriously think that he only fell for her after they'd been married, did you?" He laughed hoarsely. They've been in love for years now, and he knows her better than we even do. He knows every part of her, and he's staying away to give her a chance a life without the remembrance of all that pain, all the horrible things they went through. She gets that enough having that Mark branded on her back, and now to know that she and Malfoy were married? From what I know about them, knowing that she was married to him, had him like that, for three years and to have lost it all in an instant, is more torture than any of us could ever understand." He was silent for a moment, his thoughts running rampant as Harry and Ginny contemplated this new information. "No, I agree with Ginny. Draco wasn't right. I understand why he did it, why he ran from it, but it wasn't the right thing to do." With that he stormed from the kitchen and into the parlor, grabbing a handful of floo powder and stepping into the fireplace.

"Ron! What're you doing?" Harry was right behind him.

"I'm going to give Malfoy a right talking to." With a smile, he shouted 'Malfoy Manor' and was whisked off into the floo network.

* * *

He didn't know why he did it. He didn't know what propelled him to return. All he wanted was to forget, all he wanted was to let the past be the past. And yet, something pulled him, something forced him to apparate to the gate, touch the familiar iron, watch as it opened to the Manor's Master. Draco Malfoy walked the long drive up to the house, noticed the disarray of the grounds. Ferns had gone unattended, grass uncut, trees tangled and twisted into each other. And when he finally reached the doors, the entrance to the once great Malfoy Manor, he felt such a loneliness, such a heavy weight of guilt pressing on him as he pushed the weighty doors open and once more stepped into the place he had once called home.

"Malfoy! Draco Malfoy get your ass out here right now!" Ronald Weasley's voice echoed through the halls of the Manor.

"Weasley?" He wandered into the parlor, the smell of burned floo powder overwhelming his nostrils. "What the hell are you doing here?" He coughed as he inhaled dust and ash.

"Here's a better question, why is all your furniture covered in sheets, and why is there an inch of dust coating every surface in this house?" Ron crossed his arms and glared at Draco.

"Well because I haven't been living here! I live in a cottage very far away from here. This place is too big, too imposing for one person alone." His voice trailed into a whisper as he spoke.

"And that brings me to the real reason behind my visit."

"What, you didn't come just to say hello?" His smirk graced his lips for a moment before fading.

"Surprisingly no. I'm here because of Hermione." Concern flashed over Malfoy's face. "Don't worry, she's fine. She's just…well…Ginny told her that you and her were married…"

"WHAT?"

* * *

Harry and Ginny were sitting, waiting, in the living room at the Burrow. Hermione hadn't come out of her room, and the more Harry stared at the fireplace, the more Ginny wanted to smack him. "Oh stop Harry. He'll come back when he comes back. Until then, there's nothing we can do about it."

At that precise moment, fire raged up before them, blazing the room green as none other than Draco Malfoy thundered into the room. "Ginerva Weasley I am going to kill you!"

"What?" She jumped from her chair and marched right up to him. "I only did what you should have done when she woke up in St. Mungos! She deserves the truth Draco! She deserves to know that someone in this world loves her more than he loves himself! Even after all she's done, and all she's been through, she deserves more from you Malfoy! She deserves the truth, and she should hear it from you!" Her chest heaved with her anger. Harry touched her arm and she shook him off. "If you aren't going to come clean right now, then so help me, I'm going to make you wish you'd never met her!" Her cheeks flamed red as her temper flared. This was of course the point when Ron stumbled into the room from the fireplace.

"Draco you can't just scream at me and then storm off into the fireplace! I had to search the whole parlor for the floo powder!" He stood behind Malfoy, hands on his hips, pouting.

"Ron, this is not the time." Harry's voice was calm through the chaos. He turned to Draco. "You should go up to her. She hasn't come down since she found out. Ginny's right. Go talk to her."

* * *

The window seat in her room was warm from the afternoon sun. She heard voices from downstairs, heard Ginny screaming. It was so hard now, so hard to let go. It seemed only yesterday now that she was in the Hospital Wing with Draco, so happy, and then so very lost. She tried to remember, tried to see the battle, see their life together. Tears came to her eyes, stinging them as they fell on her cheeks. "Stop it. Just stop it." Palming them away Hermione stared out the window at the Weasley's garden. She wished Molly were here. She wished she had someone to talk to. Sadly, Molly, Arthur, the twins, and Percy had all taken a holiday to Fiji or some other exotic place. She couldn't keep up with them now. Breathing heavily, she strained for the memories, pushing her mind to remember. There were footsteps outside her door, followed by the knob turning and the door opening slowly, almost hesitantly. They moved into the room, the foot-falls heavy, like Harry's or Ron's, but there was something else there too.

"Go away. I don't want to talk to either of you." An intake of breath, the preparation to speak. "No! I don't want to hear it! You should have told me! You shouldn't have let this go on! I deserve to know! You—"

"I know." She froze. That wasn't Harry or Ron. Her heart leapt in her chest, her breath hitched. Slowly, she turned from the window, hoping she was right. But when she turned, what she saw hit her harder than she'd ever thought possible.

"Draco…" Her voice was hoarse, almost a whisper carried out on the wind. He didn't smile, didn't smirk as he once might have. Moving closer, he stepped into the light, his silver eyes smoldering into deep, dark grey. She felt tears coming to her eyes, but couldn't bring herself to blink them away.

"I never should have left you." He was close now. Too close. She moved to step away, flee backwards, run any way she could, but the window seat was at her back, and when her foot knocked against it her knees buckled and she began to fall. But something caught her, pulled her forward. He was holding her now, his arm locked like iron around her waist. "I should have told you the moment you woke up. I should have held you, I should have told you how happy I was that you were alive. I should have stayed with you." His words choked, his voice catching in his throat. "There are a million things I should have done years ago, things that I can't change that I wish were different." His hand brushed over her cheek before trailing down her neck, gripping the nape and drawing her in. And when his forehead was pressed against her own, his voice flushed against her lips. "But my biggest regret, my biggest mistake, was telling you, all those years ago, that I couldn't love you. That night in the hospital wing, that moment when I lost you, that moment when you turned away from me, I knew that if anything was possible, if Harry Potter could live through the Killing Curse as a baby, that I could have thrown everything away for you. Because of everything I've ever known, the single, solitary truth is that I love you, Hermione Malfoy. And nothing is ever going to change that." He pulled away, suddenly, his warmth leaving her standing awkwardly before him. "I just wish I could have realized it sooner." Turning away from her he moved towards the door.

"Were we happy?" Her voice trembled. "Did we ever have a moment of happiness through it all?" The tears were streaming now, slipping down her cheeks and staining her skin.

Turning to face her again, she saw the pain in his eyes; saw the sorrow on his face. "I believe we were, however briefly." He tried to smile, but it didn't carry in his eyes. He turned to leave again, and something made her speak.

"Draco!" Her feet carried her forward, and as he turned back, as he faced her with that same look of depraved, silent, sorrow, her lips met with his, hands delving into his hair, dragging him against her. Only the faintest moment of surprise graced him before his arms circled around her, drawing her into him. The kiss was harsh and fanatical, lips and teeth fighting for dominance as they gripped each other. His hands roved over her back, down her hips, grasping her thighs and pulling her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, ankles locking at the small of his back. He moved forward, propelling them across the room, hitting the wall and holding her firm against it. Bracing his hands against the wall, he pressed the hard planes of his body into her supple curves, their fire calming to rolling embers as their lips moved languidly together. Her hips rolled forward, drawing a groan from Draco's lips. He stumbled backwards, taking Hermione with him, his arms wrapped around her once more as his legs hit the edge of the bed. Lowering himself onto the bed, his hands splayed over her back as his lips left hers and trailed down over her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. Her breath heavy, Hermione turned into his lips, capturing them once more. And then she stopped. Something was slitting in her brain, blinding white and burning hot. She gripped her head, tried to push it away tried to block it out. It only came back with renewed force, stabbing, forcing, pushing.

"Hermione?" She knew that voice. It was familiar, it was known. "Hermione, are you alright?" She tried to answer, tried to scream back that she was most definitely _not_ alright, that something was terribly wrong, but she couldn't. She couldn't see anymore, her vision was white. She couldn't speak anymore, her voice had disappeared. The pain was growing, the force of it pulling her away. The blinding white flashed before her, changing from image to image, imprinting upon her with memories. She tried to look away, but no matter where she turned the images remained. They were horrid images, terrifying visions. And yet, one remained a constant. A face, a person, someone she knew. He was familiar, and she knew him from somewhere. His sharp features and piercing silver eyes reminded her of something. She tried to remember, tried to see, tried to think. And then, with clarifying finality, it all came crashing down.

* * *

She was limp in his arms, her breathing sharp and short. There were footsteps on the stairs, harsh, running. Tears fell freely from his eyes, splashing on her skin as he willed her back. Her eyes remained open, wide as if in horror of some vile beast in her mind. He held her close, wanting nothing more than for her to blink and look him in the eye. The door burst open.

"What's happened?" Harry's voice was urgent. Draco looked to him, eyes pleading for something, but he didn't know what. "Draco…"

"Harry, she's…I don't know what's happening." A gut-wrenching sob tore through him as Harry moved closer. Ron and Ginny stepped quietly into the room, almost afraid of what lay before them. "Harry, tell me she'll be alright. Tell me she's not…tell me…" His voice faded into his sobs as his body wracked around Hermione's. Ginny moved to him, gripping his shoulders, holding him against her as her own tears began to flow.

"Draco, I…"

"Don't Harry. Let him be." Ron's voice was strong and steady. He walked calmly past Harry and knelt before Draco, placing a hand on his shoulder and digging in. "It's gonna be alright, Draco." His eyes shot up to meet Ron's. "She's gonna be fine."

Harry didn't move. He knew then that even a boldfaced lie was better than the truth. Joining his friends on the floor, he took Hermione's hand and looked Draco in the eye. "We're all here. We'll be here no matter what." Draco's hand clasped Ron's arm, his sobs subsiding slowly as they all waited.

After what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, Hermione's eyes slipped closed, her breath forming raggedly, short and pained. Draco put his hand on her cheek, letting his fingers tangle in her hair as he stared at her. And then, after one long, drawn out breath, it all stopped. There was no more breath, no more ragged sound emanating from her lips, no more movement. He breathed in shakily, not believing his eyes. Pressing his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes. "Don't leave me. Please, please don't leave me." He closed his eyes and pulled away, eyes never leaving her lips.

"Draco…"

"NO! Shut up!" Shaking his friends away he bent over her, sobbing starting anew.

"Ron, get him out of here." Harry looked at Ron, willing him not to argue. Thankfully he didn't, standing roughly and taking Draco by the arms, yanking him away.

"NO! Let go of me! No!" His hands came away from Hermione harshly, jostling her as Ron pulled him away. Ron's arms locked around him, dragging him out of the room and down the stairs. "Get off me Weasley! Let me go!" He struggled all the way through the house, out the doors and into the garden where Ron unceremoniously dropped him on the cold flagstones. He was up in an instant, charging Ron. He barreled into Ron's chest, grappling with him trying to push past him.

"You know I'm bigger than you Malfoy! Back off!" Ron through Draco from him, shoving him to the ground again. "Stay down Draco!" His finger pointed accusingly at Draco's chest. "Stay down." Glaring at Ron, Draco's fingers clawed into the grass between the stones beneath him. "You're not getting back in that house, Malfoy. Stay down."

* * *

Harry drew his wand slowly, levitating Hermione up onto the bed. He could hear Ron and Draco fighting outside, but his concentration was unbroken. "Harry…what are we going to do?" Ginny's voice was quiet beside him. When Hermione was resting peacefully on the bed, Harry sat at the edge, holding his head in his hands.

"I don't know Ginny. I don't know." He heard a sharp gasp, then sharp breaths. And then Ginny screamed. Spinning up and around Harry stared at Hermione on the bed. She was sitting strait up, her breath coming in harsh gasps. "Hermione?" Her eyes shot to his.

"Harry…I…" She swallowed hard. "I remember everything."

* * *

Standing bitterly, Draco began to pace in the garden. A not so innocent gnome had the misfortune to cross his path and was kicked back into the bushes. Draco ran his hands through his hair, his anger swelling deep within him. Vaguely he heard the door to the kitchen open and close, followed by Weasley's sharp intake of breath. "I don't want to hear it Weasley. Just leave me alone." He turned out towards the rolling hills beyond the garden and breathed. Closing his eyes, he calmed the fury welling in his gut. He felt something on his shoulder, a small hand, gentle and comforting. He knew that hand. He gripped it hard with his hand, holding on to the dream just a little longer. "I wish you were here." The hand disappeared, drawing away from him. And then someone was holding him, their arms snaking around his waist, pressing against his back, their cheek soft on his shoulder-blade.

"I'm here. And I'm never leaving you." His eyes shot open, his body going rigid with hope. He started to turn slowly and the arms loosened, but did not let go. He didn't dare believe what he saw, but it was had not to. She was there, looking up at him, smiling at him. Her hands retreated from around his waist, but his hands stopped them from leaving him. He gripped her wrists hard, not trusting his senses. Her smile faded as she looked at him. "I'm not going anywhere Draco." Slowly, she drew her hand out of his grasp and touched his chest, letting her fingers slide upwards to touch his cheek. "I'm here." She was smiling again. "I remember." Her voice was somber, yet full of hope. "I remember everything, Draco." Stepping closer she felt his hands rest on her hips, unsure. "And I love you." And then her lips touched his. It was a ghost of a kiss, but it was enough. His arms locked around her, sweeping her around, holding her against him as he spun. She smiled against his lips as they twirled. And then they were standing, holding each other, smiling. Draco heard Ron laughing behind them.

"I never figured Malfoy as the kind to 'twirl'…" He laughed harder then. Draco glared at him.

"Oy! Malfoy's do not 'twirl'! We are however known, on occasion, to express extravagant motions based on our deep emotions that can only be conveyed by large gestures—"

"Oh shut it! You twirled." Ron crossed his arms and smiled. Harry and Ginny, standing beside him, grinning like idiots, laughed as Draco pouted.

"Well I think that Malfoy's do twirl, and I absolutely love it." Hermione's voice brought his eyes to hers, and his smile returned.

"Well then…" And then they were spinning again, her feet flying as he twirled her around and around. This time, everything would be perfect. This time, nothing could stand in their way.

* * *

_Sometime In The Not-So-Distant Future…_

It was raining, and his boots squelched in the mud as he made his way down the alley. He came to a door, red in daylight, but in moonlight, it gave off a dark glow, the red turning deep crimson. Raising his hand, he rapped on the door four times, then two, then once, and finally three. He heard the peephole open, then close, and then the door opened a crack, just enough to let him through. Once inside, he pulled down his hood, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up before proceeding down the long hallway. It was dark, only lit by a few candles, each one giving off a dull, golden light. His dark eyes glinted as he passed each one, his dark purpose growing with each step. When he finally reach the door at the end of the hall, he pushed it open slowly, cautiously. Stepping into the dark room, he noted the seven other attendees. Each wore formal robes, each had their wand lain on the round table before them. Only one seat remained open. Moving silently around the table he nodded to members as he passed them. When he reached the empty seat he pulled it out and lay his wand on the table.

"Gentlemen, lady, you all know why we're here." They nodded. "Over the past few years we've all bided our time, regained out strength." Again, they nodded in agreement. "I know you've been waiting for the right time. And with Harry Potter and his band of blood-traitors relaxing in their post-victory stupor, now is the perfect time. The Dark Lord is gone, and there is nothing we can do about it."

"That's not true—"

"You know just as well as I do that where they sent him, there is no hope of return! I grieve his loss more and more each day. But he would have wanted us to carry on. He would have wanted us to be vigilant now more than ever. Our time has come. It is time for a new order. We all bear the Dark Mark; we all know his power is not gone. Soon, his power will rise, will choose someone to lead us. Until that time when our Lord finds us again, we must meet in secret, we must revitalize our ranks and regain our power. No one shall ever speak of these meetings to anyone. Not even your children. We cannot risk the Light discovering us."

"I thought your wife was happy in her life now. I thought she liked the fact that she no longer had to answer to anybody." The group chuckled.

"My wife is none of your concern. She will do as she pleases, and if the time comes when she is no longer needed, then so be it." He swallowed hard. "Am I being clear enough for you?"

"Of course. But what of Lord and Lady Malfoy? Hermione was a powerful force when the Dark Lord controlled her. What shall become of them now?"

"Hermione Malfoy is a Mudblood and a traitor. And once Lord Voldemort's power is restored and a new leader arises, she shall be dealt with, along with her traitor of a husband." He grinned maniacally. "I hear they're expecting a son now. I hear his power is already showing through his mother. I'm well trusted in their circle, and it isn't hard to keep tabs on the family. They've returned to Malfoy Manor, something about rebuilding and returning the Malfoy name to it's former glory. According to my contact at St. Mungos, their son is more powerful than Harry Potter. According to my contact, he is more powerful than Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter combined." There was a murmur of whispers around the table. "We might not have to wait as long as originally thought for our Dark Lord to return to us." And with that, he took his wand and pointed it at the hard wood center of the table. The seven around him followed. "Morsmordre." Deep green light surged from the tips of all eight wands, branding the table with the skull and snake. Blaise Zabini watched as the snake writhed before them, illuminating the faces of his surrounding Deatheaters. "Bellatrix, Crabb, Macnair, Dolohov, Travers, Yaxley, Rookwood, until we meet again." Standing, the others following suit, Blaise bowed sharply and spun on his heel, leaving the same way his came, and disappearing into the night.

* * *

Hermione sat on the patio at Malfoy Manor, her hand moving lightly over her swelling stomach. It was a beautiful day. The rain the night before had cleared the skys and left everything looking fresh and new. She smiled as the sun warmed her skin. Hands on her shoulders startled her, but she calmed when she heard the familiar chuckle. "You scare too easy."

"Can you blame me?" She smiled at her husband.

"No, I really can't." He smiled down at her before kissing her neck. "Come inside. Lunch is ready." He offered her his hand and helped her to stand.

"You know, you get to be a large as a whale and then you try standing and sitting and standing and sitting and standing and sitting over and over and over again. I'm telling you, it's not the most pleasant thing in the world." She groaned as she stood, her back protesting with each movement.

"I'd rather not, thank you. Besides, if we were both pregnant, who'd be taking care of restoring the Manor?" Wrapping his arm around her he guided them back into the house. "And I quite like you pregnant. You glow."

"I glow, do I?" Her arm twined around his waist and she let him lead. "Well, I suppose I can be pregnant." They laughed as they entered the dinning hall. Standing in small groups were all their friends. Harry and Ginny stood with Neville and George. Fred was not too far off chatting with Luna and Seamus. Dean and Oliver were debating the latest Quidditch game, while Ron and Katie stood with the Patil sisters and argued about politics. It was amusing to see Ron argue about politics, but Draco suspected it had something to do with Katie Bell and her rather disarming smile. Gregory Goyle entered awkwardly, but found his place with Fred and Seamus as they discussed the twin's shop and possible business deals. Last to join them were Pansy and Blaise, trotting in last minute and apologizing profusely for their tardiness. Taking their seats, Draco welcomed them all and expressed how happy he was they could all be here. Hermione sat to his right with Harry on his left. Ginny beside him and Ron across from her beside Hermione. That was how the five of them always sat at the frequent dinners and lunches they all shared at Malfoy Manor. The others, who also attended these lunches and dinners, but not so often as Ron, Ginny and Harry, found their seats and began to eat. Blaise sat at the opposite end of the table, staring down it's length at Draco. It made Draco uneasy. However, the meal passed without incident and when they all moved out onto the patio and the grounds beyond for a friendly game of Quidditch, Draco drew Blaise aside before the match began.

"Blaise, you're my oldest friend."

"Well-spotted. What's going on with you?" Blaise smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I think the better question is, 'what's going on with you, old friend?'" Crossing his arms Draco looked into his friend's eyes. He was hiding something.

"What do you mean? Nothing's going on."

"Pansy told me you haven't been home lately. She thinks you're having an affair. I told her it wasn't possible, but you're hiding something."

"I'm not hiding anything. I've just been busy with work."

"Fine, fine, don't tell me. Just know that I know." Draco glared at Blaise. "I know you're hiding something, and I'm going to find out what it is. We may be old friends, but I don't trust you anymore Blaise. You lost that long ago." Blaise frowned.

"I'm sorry you don't trust me Draco." He stepped closer. "But if I remember correctly, who's really the untrustworthy man here? Hmm? If I remember correctly, it was _you_ who betrayed everyone around you and switched sides all those years ago. If I remember correctly, it was _you_, not I, who made everyone believe you were a dedicated Deatheater only to betray us all in the end. Be warned Draco, there are still Deatheaters out there. Your aunt among them, and they're very powerful, very angry, and very well hidden. You and your family might not be as safe as you think." With that, he turned on his heel and moved to Pansy, grabbed her arm and directed her back into the house. No doubt they were leaving, and Draco knew it was because something his said riled Blaise, and something was definitely wrong.

"Oy! Draco, you coming?" Fred's voice carried heavily from the sky. Draco nodded and waved up, summoning his broom and flying over to Hermione.

"Kiss for luck?" He grinned devilishly at her. She smiled back and pecked him lightly.

"Good luck, my love." Smiling brightly she watched him soar high into the sky. They were happy, they were safe. She was with her family and friends, and life was finally heading in the right direction.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_ OH. MY. GOD. That took forever. I'm actually quite satisfied with this final chapter though. It went in a bit of a different direction than I originally thought, but I'm really happy with it. It was, however, touch and go there for a minute with Hermione. I couldn't decide for the longest time if I wanted to kill her or not. That's mainly what took so long for me to finish this chapter. On another note, what did you all think? What the ending what you wanted? Did you hate it? Was it too happy, sappy, cheesy or all of the above? I love hearing what you all think, and seeing as how this is the final chapter and there will not be another one, you need to tell me what's up. Pretty please? And do tell if you want there to be a sequel, because I've left it open for one, but it probably won't happy any time soon. I need to focus on __**My Little Mermaid**__, and a few others stories that are in the works right now. But please, leave a review, tell me what you think, and if there should be a sequel or not. And thank you all for reading, for sticking with me from the beginning, and for all your support. It's truly been a pleasure writing this story, and it's sad to see it go. But above all, thank you for reading. It means a lot._

_-The Crimson Sheath_


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